Neighbors
by writingrubbish
Summary: University student Ramona is starting a new life, and has the same talent with deduction as Sherlock. when her and Hannah meet John and Sherlock on a train, the boys find out that they're moving into 221c. Personalities clash as the two detectives begin a strained and competitive partnership. Can they fight the powers trying to keep them apart? I don't own Sherlock.
1. Arabella

**chapter 1: the train**

A woman exits her family home for the last time, emotional goodbyes were expressed, and she started walking to the train station. She swung a black rucksack onto her narrow shoulders and pulled along a red wheeled suitcase with her right hand. She dressed for herself, no one blue ripped skinny jeans accompanied a white crop top, leather heeled Chelsea boots, a leather jacket, and aviators to shield her bluey green eyes from the harsh summer sun. no one looked good squinting. Her hair was just below her shoulder,blonde, and straight, unfortunately although she had always longed for long flowing hair, it was clear that was not going to happen. She noted that she had never actually decided what her exact eye colour was. maybe no one had. She entered the train station, bustling with life.

It was full to bursting of people just like her, on their way to university in London. They looked fresh faced, full of hope and nerves, eager to please. Not her. She didn't know if she liked that. She decided that some people matured, harshened, realised what life really was, quicker than most, and that she was most probably one of them. Although, she never really acted like it. she tried to list her traits; never takes anything seriously, average in every aspect (she hoped this was just her modesty), pretentious at times (or maybe just in her thoughts) and ambitious. mind numbingly, eye rollingly, ambitious. This was surprising however, as she was a pessimist at best. Maybe it was a side affect of being young. She liked being a pessimist, and saw no fault with being one. For example, if you want something for Christmas, but are unsure if you will get it, being a pessimist, you will either be pleasantly surprised, or right. Being an optimist however, you will either be disappointed, or right. She preferred the first choice.

Spotting her train, her stomach did an unexpected flip. she sighed to herself. She really did hate having feelings. She walked with purpose everywhere, and people often had to jog to keep up with her. She hoped they wouldn't have to in london. As she got closer, she counted the carriages. There were 15 on the grey east coat train. As much as she had protested, her parents had booked her a first class seat. _God im going to miss them_ she thought as she walked past the crowded standard class carriages. She watched people filing into the train, and she joined them. Being blinded by her own thoughts, she bumped rather violently into a women, and she looked very angry. _Female, caucasian, early 30's, no, 27. stupid. _She kicked herself mentally. _Going back to London after a break visiting family, her sister. She's always been jealous of her, she was trying to show off, definitely not close to her. Extremely ambitious, climbing, or should i say has climbed, the corporate ladder. very serious businesswoman, under a lot of stress. A lot. Lots of frown lines. Longing for a family. She's lost all passion for her job, she envies her sister, parents were borderline sexist, always disapproved of her wanting a career, and always approved of her sister for being a docile little thing. I suddenly like this woman._

"Watch it! idiot!" _Maybe not _"Hows your sister? You still jealous?" She watches as the woman's face flits through emotions, shock, anger, back to shock, sadness, confusion "How did you... How did you know?" She paused wondering if she should continue on her path on confirming this woman of her worst fears "I observed. and i didn't know, i guessed. i know now though" She smiled softly "Don't worry. I respect you. Your parents always underestimated you, but you got there. Your great." The woman looked extremely flattered "Thank you..." She said, looking to the leather clad 21 year old "Ramona" She replied. The older woman smiled a genuine smile "Have a good day" "Hopefully i will, I'm moving to London with a friend" "Where abouts?" "North" Ramona says with a smile. "Lucky girl" The older woman replies with a playful smile. Ramona laughs. "I have an relative who owns it, so i got a family discount-" "2 minutes until departure" A mans mans voice bellowed over the stations speaker "Goodbye Ramona" "Goodbye successful businesswoman" They both laugh and go their separate ways. Her talent was extremely useful at times, she thought to herself._ Wonder what its like to not know a thing about anyone before they tell you. must be bloody awful_. She muses, stepping onto the train.

She had never really cared about what people-and/or strangers- Thought about her. None of these people really mattered to her. Sometimes she forgot other people actually had lives, had problems, their own story. And all unique. It seemed to be the most simple, obvious and yet perplexing concept on earth. She racks her brain for the word. _Sonder (n) The realisation that every stranger is living a life just as vivid as your own, filled with friends, enemies, tragedies, loves, and where one may be a simple grey scale extra. well, this technically wasn't a real word but it'd just have to do._

She smiled to herself. She loved how her mind worked. How the cogs turned. _Never been smart _she mused _but always observant, always able to piece together the complicated puzzles that were people. As far as she could tell, this was a unique talent that she possessed. Or maybe I'm just being Pretentious. _She shrugs indifferently and puts in her headphones and slides into her window seat, putting her larger red bag on the holdall above, and puts her rucksack in between her feet. _part of a six, with a table, thank god. _she doesn't bother to take her aviators off, arctic monkeys blares in her ears, and she decided that the two things, also her leather jacket and her indifferent personality, definitely were involved. Her friend spots her and starts to jump up and down, her mad frizzy brown hair going crazy "Ramona! THIS IS HAPPENING! WE'RE MOVING TO LONDON!" she squeals"shush Hannah!" she says as she chuckles and pulls her best friend into the seat next to her. "sorry! im just really excited!" she had a gorgeous personality, one that reminded Ramona of a golden retriever. loyal, innocent, and 100% happy at all times. you had to love her. "wonder who we're sharing this with" Hannah mused. "probably only one or two people, we're in first class luckily after all" At that, Men slide into the seats parallel to them, The taller one of the two right in front of her, and she's suddenly very pleased that he couldn't see her eyes through the big, black lenses. _This is going to be very enjoyable _she thought, smirking, while pulling out a green apple, and talking a crunching bite, the man opposite watching every move with a calculating, cold face

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**ok so that was the first chapter!**

**please review as this is my first story and i'd like to be able to improve!**

**thanks for reading :)**


	2. Balaclava

**chapter 2: ****balaclava**

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Ramona looks at Hannah. She hates awkwardness. _She hates situations. I, on the other hand, Revelled in anything like this. I loved making an impression. I really don't know where my attitude comes from, but i cant imagine being anything else, and i wouldn't want to. _The smaller man smiles at the two girls. _Male, 30's, Caucasian, military background. _He pulls out his phone, on the back there's an engraving 'Harry Watson, From Clara' and then several x's, but she didn't care to count. _from a lover definitely _he then turns it slightly, and she sees the roughed up corners of the charger hole with a raised eyebrow._a drunk? doesn't seem the type. who can blame him though, being ex __military_ she glances at the table to look at the tickets. _the names on the tickets say Sherlock Holmes and john Watson. from his brother then. he obviously broke up with this 'Clara' person. drunk brother. medical profession. doctor. interesting. were they partners? they don't look all that straight. hm. _Hannah looks to me "for god sake Ramona, do you have to?" Ramona grin widely and chuckles "you love it really" she sighs "if you have to".John looks extremely confused by this vague exchange, while Sherlock stares unforgivingly.

**Sherlock's pov**

"Hi john" the girl with the sunglasses smiles "um, hello? How did you-" "which was it, Iraq or Afghanistan?" His jaw drops, Looking extremely shocked. John looks up at me, and then at her, stunned "How.. how do you know that?" _I must admit, that's something I'd like to know as well. and why is she quoting me? a fan possibly? no, no shes not the type. shes dressed extremely... extremely different. A possible music influence. No, a definite music influence._ he glances at the ear buds and then her hands _guitar player. long thin fingers and hardened fingertips. shes good. electric mostly, rarely acoustic. shes still wearing the sunglasses. well, it it very sunny to be fair. we got on at Leeds. she must be from the surrounding area. not that well to do. but middle class. what else. she's well spoken, but a tinge of a Manchester accent. interesting. her friend, much louder, much more northern. nearly all the people her age are here to come to London and start university. are they a couple? shes bisexual. possible- incorrect, her friend is straight. why cant i deduce anything else? is it the glasses? it has to be. very interesting._

**Ramona's pov**

"I didn't know, i simply observed. now i know though." Hannah mouthed the whole thing along with her, extremely exasperated and embarrassed by Ramona's behaviour. "It was Afghanistan. how did you know?" she chuckles " Your posture screams military. However, you're not a soldier now. you're a doctor-" Sherlock's smiling now "What university is it?" she lifts one eyebrow "university college London Sherlock" she smiles. _now i wont be bored. great. ok, so potentially homosexual. well groomed, but for himself. hes dressed smartly, but no tie, and an undone button. not a businessman then. of course not. violin player, very good one at that. the way he holds his head, not surprising, quite a pretentious instrument. very posh accent. native Londoner definitely. self employed. doesn't seem like the business type at all. detective? private detective. incorrect. hes not the type. hes professional, not amateur... consulting? he seems the type to make up a job to suit himself. now that i think about it, they don't seem romantically involved at all. platonic relationship. old friends? no, i have a feeling he doesn't have many of those. flatmates then. not a house. north London naturally. _

"unfortunately though, that's very obvious. the age range of the population of this train and the time of year basically throw this fact in your face. how long have you been flatmates with john here? also, how long have you been a... a consulting detective?"

**John's pov**

Hannah rubs her temples as john roll his eyes. the two 'intelligent' voices fade into the background._ to be frank, i'd rather not listen to them show off to each other. were me and her in the same boat? i outstretch my hand across the table _"I'm john" he says with a smile. she beams at him "I'm Hannah" they shake hands for 2 seconds. "are we in the same boat? she says with a laugh" " im afraid we most probably are" "I'm sorry for Ramona, i swear, most of my time is spent being embarrassed by her antics and having to apologise for her!" john chuckles "and the other half running around after her?" her eyes widen at his truth "we need to make a support group! there might be more victims!" she cried playfully. they both laugh. _nice girl. _

**Ramona's**** pov **

_Sherlock's staring at me. intensely so. well, at my aviators if he hopes to burn a hole through them with his eyes. I'm starting to thing that maybe he could. _Sherlock opens his mouth and sharply intakes breath, as if to speak. but before he could, john butted in. he knew how insensitive he could be. "so, what are you girls going to study?" Hannah was the first to answer, Ramona was too busy trying to get Sherlock to stop looking at her "well, I'm going to be doing dentistry for 5 years at queen Mary's" she said with an excited smile. "And you Ramona?" she turned her gaze to him "criminology, forensic science, law, and business" she said with a straight face. "that's a lot of work!" john exclaimed. "i know. i only wanted to do the crime thing, but my parents want me to be a CEO, but i think you can tell I'm not the type" she laughed.

Hannah and John continued to chat about tedious and menial things as Ramona looked back at Sherlock. "do you think i cant see you behind these?" "its more vice versa" "if i take them off, will you stop looking at me?" he immediately looked out the window. "so, whats it like being a consulting detective?" "its good, but only if you're as good as me" "are you attempting to be funny, or arrogant?" he cocked an eyebrow. "are you attempting to be cool, mysterious, or both?" "all of the above, and i don't have to attempt." she said with a smirk "you couldn't deduce a thing about me, and its thanks to these." "i know you're bisexual" "so? i know everything there is to know about you Mr Holmes, and i know that you've never done anything sexual, so how would you know that you were straight?" he tensed his jaw and stared out to the countryside Ramona laughed.

"what else do you know, Ramona?" "do you really want to know?" she leaned in he laughed harshly "you're a twenty one year old i met on a train, not a palm reader." she takes a her earphones out.

"ok then. you have an older brother, hes in a place of power, the government. he loves you, in his own way, and watches over you, in his own way" she looks up at the camera in the carriage. Sherlock follows her face and smiles. "your parents are very different to you, normal in all aspects, but for some reason, had 2 geniuses. you don't have many friends, in fact john her e may be your only one. you live together, share a flat, not a house. you trust him a lot. you've lived around London all your life, north of course, going by your accent. you act like your above everyone else, because of 3 little numbers you've self diagnosed. IQ of 190. you think it makes you better than everyone else, that because of this, you have to try and elevate yourself into a non feeling, case cracking machine. truth be told, most people've hated you for it your entire life, so you've simply reduced yourself to running around calling people idiots at every turn. you've never been intimate, at all. I'm surprised though, almost a perfectly symmetrical face, cheekbones, alright dress sense, yes surprised. although, I'm sure you've had women throwing themselves at you all the time, only to be extremely harshly rejected. either that, or they've just seem how much of a twat you are. you were a smoker, but apparently you've given up. its nicotine patches now, and in big doses. that's not healthy, is it?"

"correct" Sherlock says stubbornly, crossing his arms stubbornly and leaning into his seat. "of course" Ramona smirks arrogantly. the train comes to a slow stop. Sherlock and Ramona stand up first. Sherlock outstretches his hand. "well, its been interesting meeting an equal, ramona.." he searched for a last name as she placed her hand in his as his ig hand engulfed hers "Doherty" "Ramona Doherty" he repeated, trying the name in his mouth, still boring his eyes into her sunglasses. she rolled her eyes "stop trying to get my pulse. i don't fancy you, please never flatter yourself like that again." he clenched his jaw and looked away. _he'd really do anything to deduce me, I'm not that interesting, surely. _as she slid out of her seat, pulling one strap of her rucksack onto her shoulder, and pulled both of the girls suitcases out of the holdall above them. as she did this, Sherlock grabbed one of her earphones and put it in his. expecting to hear crappy manufactured pop music, he was greeted to electric guitar, and Alex turners voice. "so that's where you get your dress sense" he smirked. "admittedly, yes. but i dont really think its a bad thing. "c'mon Hannah, life starts now." she said with an uncharacteristically happy, non sarcastic smile.

Hannah beams, and walks beside her, not quite keeping up with her strides. Sherlock however, kept up. he was at the other side of the train station by now, waiting for john. they reached the cabs together, both going for the same one, and after a toxic glare from Ramona, Sherlock moved to the one behind her "where to?" the cabbies ask them. "221 baker street please" they say in unison. they all look shocked now. "actually, we'll just share with these, sorry." john says in disbelief. the cabbie grumbles in response. _great. we're going to be neighbors _Ramona thought sarcastically.

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**2nd chapter done! **

**I've decided I'm going to name the chapters after Arctic Monkeys songs, because i can**

**please review, i wanna get better!**

**Thanks for reading :)))**


	3. Crying Lightning

**chapter 3: crying lightning **

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The four of them piled into the cab, and they were parallel to each other. It was silent for 5 seconds. Ramona saw Hannah physically cringe. _Poor girl_. Another five second silence. Then Ramona felt a growing smile and a laugh creeping up her throat. _What a dire situation_. Suddenly they all burst out laughing. Ramona noted Sherlock's laugh, a laugh that would fill an empty, dead room and fill it with life. His voice was extremely deep as it is, this was just ridiculous. johns laugh was adorable, and Hannah was, well, Hannah all over hearty, real, and lovely to hear, like music that came out of one of those boxes when you opened them and a ballerina started dancing. Ramona decided that Hannah was that ballerina. Ramona's laugh had often been called fake, and before she adopted the the sunglasses, suited her. She had been innocent, and her laugh reflected that. _You can tell a lot about a person from their laugh _Ramona thought.

Hannah was surprisingly the first person to regain their breath, and pipe up. "This is very odd" Everyone nodded "Extremely so" John said "So, if this Isn't rude, how are you guys going to pay for the rent? I really hope you don't take offence" John gushed. _The last thing he would ever want to do was hurt someone. _Ramona liked that a lot. An extreme polarity to the man next to him. Ramona decided she was going to reply "Well, I'm going to be teaching guitar and piano lessons, I'm gonna try to get schools to let me teach lessons, and do it out of school as well, Hannah is going to get a job in a shop, but I don't know how she'll have the time, honestly. Shes, erm, very well to do, and gets an... Allowance for doing dentistry from her parents " Hannah blushed and looked extremely embarrassed "Also, the landlady, Mrs Hudson, is my great aunt" I smiled "As much as i protested, she demanded that i live there, and after seeing the photos, who am I to deny Hannah the apartment?" Ramona asked sarcastically. "You girls are going to be extremely busy, aren't you?" Sherlock spoke up. Ramona was almost surprised. "That's the plan" Everyone smiles. "Hopefully you wont be up all night playing the violin though" John just laughed. "Hopefully you wont be blaring that music at all hours of the day" Ramona's big left eye twitched violently. If there was anything she hated, it was people who hated her music. She proceeded to pull out two extremely powerful and expensive speakers out of her rucksack "Hopefully not" She said with a smile.

The taxi pulls up outside 221 baker street. Taking a deep breath, Her stomach does multiple flip. _Life starts now. _she recites her motto for moving anywhere different, and she did that a lot with her fathers profession. Mrs Hudson is waiting outside. Hannah and John split the taxi fare, insisting._ Not that i was that keen though, I'd rather be rich and rude than poor and polite. Being polite, its nothing more than a fools game. Sherlock knows that._ We get out of the taxi and Mrs Hudson pulls Ramona into a crushing hug, which for her frame and age, surprised Ramona. "I see you've met the boys! They said they'd be getting the train back, what a coincidence! I do hope Sherlock hasn't scared you off, we had interviews a while back for that flat, but that's exactly what he did to them!" Mrs Hudson cried, and Ramona couldn't help but smile largely, it was the most genuine of smiles from her in a long time._ maybe London'll be good for me. hopefully. _"Mrs Hudson, I did not 'scare them off', I simply asked them questions, they were boring and annoying, and if they cant handle my deductions-" "Most of them ran off in tears Sherlock!" exclaimed Mrs Hudson. Sherlock sighed, John sighed, Hannah giggled and exchanged a look with Ramona, who was smiling.

"Now dears, these are your keys" she placed 2 small silver keys into Hannah's open palm "I'll leave you to get settled" she smiled at the two "if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. You're family." "you've already done enough Mrs Hudson, please I'm going to get Embarrassed if you're any nicer to us" she shewed the woman upstairs. _being polite is a fools game. _The sentence runs through Ramona's mind. _wow. do i even have to be a sarcastic twat to myself now? _ Ramona walks up to Sherlock "so, we're not boring and annoying?" "not yet. You're attitude and attire led me to believe you would not care anyway however?" Ramona rolled her eyes. _Is he always like this? its annoying as fuck, if you'll pardon my language._

She turns to Hannah "I'm gonna stay out here for two minutes Han, alright?" The brown eyed girl nodded back. "Never took you for a smoker, Ramona" Sherlock breathed behind her. "No, you wouldn't, would you?" She said not turning to face him, taking off her sunglasses, and pulling out a small box of Marlboro Gold from her leather jacket pocket. If there was something she didn't try to save money on, it was her cigarettes. He scowled, Noticing them. _Bloody good, I do not care about your stupid cravings, I need a cigarette. Get out of here. _Pulling a white Bic lighter out of the same pocket, she turned around to light the cigarette already in her mouth "Want one?" she said, cocking her head to the side innocently. And then looking up to the heavens, she blew smoke into the night sky, that was completely starless, thanks to the London air pollution. She decided she was not helping this issue. Sherlock went completely rigid, and keeping his jaw tense, he stormed inside. A single thought accompanied him for the rest of the night, when he watched television, when he went on his laptop, when he actually tried to sleep, when he played his violin, a single thought. _that girl will be the death of me._

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**its going slow, but that's Sherlock and people in general**

**hope you're liking it! please review so i know where im going wrong, or how i could improve!**

**thank you to the people who reviewed :)**

**thank you for reading!**


	4. Old Yellow Bricks

**Chapter 4: Old Yellow Bricks**

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Long legs pounding against weathered tarmac. heavy breathing. profanities muttered under these sounds. Muffled sobs. His face. Again and again. Over and over. So pained. So helpless. scuffed hands. Blood appearing from nowhere on her clothes.

Ramona woke up to salty cheeks and a wet pillow. Again. John was knocking on the door. The red digits on her alarm clock screamed 5:54 am. suddenly she was carrying herself to the door, wrapped in a dressing gown. wiping her face, and taking a deep breath, she unlocked the several door locks, and opened it. Sherlock was watching from halfway down the stairs. "Everything ok?" John asked. "Y-yeah" _shit._ her voice had broken and betrayed her, know they would know something was wrong. "I, um, just a bad dream" a forced laugh "You don't look okay. You've been crying. Hard. Your voice is hoarse from screaming blue murder. Probably flashbacks from a traumatic experience." Sherlock said, having to be the one to enlighten us with his superior intellect. _dick_. "Firstly, you're wrong" Ramona lied, exchanging scowls with Sherlock "Secondly, I didn't know I was screaming" Ramona said, rubbing the back of her neck and looking down at her slipper clad feet. "I'm sorry guys, you must be dreading being my neighbor." John was shaking his head violently, while Sherlock was shrugging in agreement. Hannah suddenly appears from behind Ramona. "Whats happened now." Ramona smiles, looking at her friends hair, that narrowly resembled a birds nest. "Deep sleeper." Ramona smiled, her laugh now genuine."I'm really sorry for waking you guys. see you in the morning." John looked hesitant to leave. For the first time ever, Ramona thought she saw a flicker of concern flash across the detectives face. It was probably nothing.

Hannah waltzed around the airy, light apartment, morning sun starting to creep through the half opened windows. The floors were all oak wood, with white washed walls. The furniture had arrived a few days before them, and Mrs Hudson had been as kind as to move it into place. She heard the shower turn off and her flatmates footsteps pacing around her room. Ramona walked out wearing Black trainers, black leggings, a white oasis top and a denim jacket. Hannah drew a breath and opened her mouth, but before she could speak Ramona butted in. "Not hungry, going to go check for post." she glided out of the door, not missing a beat.

Ramona raced down the flights of stairs, admittedly making a lot of noise. but she was excited. extremely so. She was to recieve details of her university education in the post 'any time this week'. Although she was a self diagnosed super-pessimist, she was very hopeful that the big white envelope would be in front the big black door. She reached the pile of post, and rifled through envelopes. _bill, bill, plea for Sherlock's help, postcard for Mrs Hudson, BIG WHITE ENVELOPE ADDRESSED TO RAMONA DOHERTY! _As she stood back up, still facing the door, a big pair of hands covered her mouth and wrapped around her waist.

Ramona's instincts kicked in, and racked her brains to remember her self defense instructors exact words. _"Hit the bastard where it 'urts, girl_." _How helpful and extremely cliche. _Lifting her her left knee towards the ceiling, she quickly brought her left foot back with extreme force, to collide with the attackers crotch. An audible "UMF" was heard, but he still demanded to cling onto her. Ramona's right hand flew back, desperate to gain control of the situation. She grabbed a fistful of hair from behind, while biting down scarily hard on the assailants hand that covered her mouth, drawing blood. His hand flew back with shock, as she placed her foot behind his. with her right hand still drowning the attackers hair, she pushed him back, and twisted his leg while he tripped on her foot, making a sickening crunch noise, but still managing to keep his balance. Without thinking, Ramona threw a powerful fist into his nose, and then another into his eye. Then, all too late, she realised the assailant was Sherlock.

"Why'd you do that?!" He in pain and shock, holding his non bit hand to his nose, trying to sustain the blood pouring out of his nose. "WHAT!" Ramonacried, causing her 'attacker' to shuffle back out of fear. "YOU SNEAK UP ON ME LIKE THAT, AND EXPECT ME TO KNOW IT WAS YOU! YOU IDIOT! WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THAT!" Her voice boomed around the ground floor, and Ramona thanked her lucky stars that Mrs Hudson was out. "It was an experiment!" The detective shouted back in defense, his baritone voice reaching new levels. "I was going to test my theory to see if your little episode last night had anything to do with a past trauma, and I was right. You lied." Sherlock said, with a strangely smug look on his face, considering he'd just recieved a black eye and a possible broken nose from Ramona. "You're completely physco, I swear to god. Any healthy and alert woman who went to self defence classes would have reacted the exact same way." She crossed her arms, wondering if this man was sound in the head. "Yes, but not quite like that. You screamed before you even knew i was there, that's something only a traumatised or highly paranoid person would do. and you don't seem to be the latter" The detective replied, wincing at the pain that was screaming in his body. "You know you could of just asked me? It would be a lot less of a... painful experience." Ramona grinned mischeviously, and sherlock rolled his eyes, and hid his smile behind his hand that was cradling his maybe-broken nose. Ramona crouched down to pick up her envelope and tucked it in her pocket. "C'mon then Sherlock, lets get you sorted out." She smiled genuinely at the injured man "Lean on me." Ramona held out her arm to go around the six foot detective, making him feel like the smallest man to ever walk on earth, who could feel his pride slipping by the second. He sighed heavily, and then begrudgingly obliged, grunting at every step he took towards his flat.

**Sherlock's pov**

Sitting Sherlock down on an armchair, she began to search his cupboards. _rookie mistake. _He expected a girly scream or shriek, but nothing of the sort escaped her. "Sherlock, do you keep a first aid kit in the flat?" A very professional and serious tone took her over. "Aren't you going to ask about all the human body parts?" The detective asked with a quizzical tone. "Experiments, I presume. Unless you're some kind of perverted serial killer, and you don't seem to be the latter." Ramona quoted the Injured man, causing him to smile. "third cabinet on the left. Watch out for the foot." Sherlock added, causing Ramona to smile, displaying an impressive set of white, perfectly straight teeth. For reasons unknown, this caused Sherlock's stomach to react strangely. His nose bleeding had been reduced to a trickle, but this still seemed to worry Ramona in a way that she tried to hide. He watched her reach up the instructed cabinet, and smile oddly at the severed human foot. _strange._ "Ok, how bad is your leg?" she asked, concern contorting her features._ why did she care so much?_ "Bearable." Sherlock said. never one to make a fuss. Ramona rolled her eyes. "Okay tough guy, tell me when it starts to hurt. You could of pulled something, you never know." "It feels much more severe than that, I assume you will take me to hospital if that's the case?" Ramona laughed, and Sherlock's brow furrowed "I may be extremely dangerous and mysterious, but I was also training to become a physiotherapist, trust me, I haven't done that much damage." Sherlock mentally kicks himself for this. _How could I not of seen that? This girl makes me doubt everything I know about myself. _Ramona begins squeezing his leg, slowly getting higher. he sees Ramona redden as she reaches his knee. still no pain. Suddenly her hands hit the top of kneecap and he yelps in pain. "Well. That could of gotten extremely awkward." The detective states, resulting in Ramona to laugh. He decides he likes the sound of her laugh and notes to try and hear it more often. Ramona runs to the kitchen to wet a paper towel for his nose. She hurries back and gives it to him to hold against it. She then materializes a cotton pad and anti-septic from the dark green first aid box and combines the two, then using this anti-septic ridden cotton pad to dab it onto the top of Sherlock's cheekbone, which he was just finding out had been cut by Ramona's ring. She looks up from her work to meet his cool grey eyes, and they are both suddenly very aware of the silence in the room, buzzing in their ears. She looks away after 3 seconds of eye contact, but could easily have been mistaken for century's.

**Ramona's pov**

One knee support bandage later, she was done. Ramona huffed loudly as her back hit the couch, and turned on the tv. She scruffily opens the white envelope, nerves shredding her. "what's that?" The detective asks. "Just my university details and stuff. timetable and all that jazz." She replies. "Whats your IQ, Ramona?" Her brows furrow slightly at the question. "185. Why?" "Do you think you're smart?" "I think there are lots of different kinds of smart, and I'am not the important kind." Ramona notices that mans eyes widen at the statement. "What do you mean?" "I'm test smart, a photographic memory, but at the end of the day, I'm not the quick thinking smart, I smoke, and there's no logic to that. I get into danger, some would say attracted to it," her eyes seem far away "everything about me screams unintelligent." She didn't know why she was telling him this, things she hadn't even told herself. "Your wrong. Apart from the attracted to danger thing. No wonder your attracted to me." Sherlock stated plainly, and for some reason Ramona's stomach dropped, her eyes widened, and she could feel her throat gulp. This state continued until she heard his deep baritone chuckle, laughing at his own joke. _A joke. It was obviously a joke. Why would you react that way? _She fakely rolled her eyes and grinned. "Well how could I not?" She asked sarcastically, putting a hand to her chest "you're so dangerous, detective Holmes, you're cheekbones make me swoon!" Putting the back of her hand to her forehead mockingly. They both laugh wholeheartedly. "So, wheres john?" Sherlock is quick to reply. "Meeting an old friend or something." The detective pauses "What happened to you? Why did you... react like that?" Ramona sighs and looks down, deciding that he wasn't going to stop until he knew. "It's... a long story" She says, defeated.

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**cliffhanger!**

**I hope this is interesting haha, **

**Please review i will love you 5eva**


	5. Electricity

**Electricity**

I don't own Sherlock unfortunately, just the story and my oc's

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"It happened so fast. I didn't really know what had happened until it was done." Ramona painfully stated. Memories came shooting towards her, all as unpleasant as the others. "Me and this boy, we were walking back from the cinema. Then he said we should take a shortcut. It wasn't a particularly sketchy part of town or anything, but we went through this alleyway.." Her breath got faster and shorter, and Sherlock spotted all the signs of a ptsd sufferer. Ramona's hand flies towards her stomach subconsciously. "And, there was this... Man there. He tried to mug us, but Tom, the boy I was with, he- he wasn't having any of it. Always too brave, stupidly so. The man, he shot him. He was just lying there, and there was so much blood. I wanted to stay with him, but I knew I was going to die if I did. So I ran. For ages as well. I was one of the best runners at school, but that? That was like nothing like running around a circuit, being timed. I was running for my life, and the man, he was just as fast. I was smart though. Not smart enough, of course." She was standing now, her big eyes far away as ever. "H-he, he shot me." She looks down and notices her hand clutching at the wound, trying to stop invisible blood from leaking out. "It wasn't on purpose though. He got hold of me, and I really thought I was going to die. When i fought back, he accidentally pulled the trigger. He had fell awkwardly like when I hit you and sprained something. The gun was just there, Sherlock. And I picked it up." Shes shaking violently now, and she looks pale. Sherlock notes to be ready to catch her if she faints. "I picked the thing up, and looked at the man. He was looking up at me from the floor, pleading for me not to do it. He was so scared. Then I lifted it to point at him, and I pulled the trigger. I regret it every day. I was so pumped full of adrenaline, I killed him. Sherlock, I killed somebody." Her legs are weak now, and she stumbled to find a seat. "After that, I couldn't bare to be around Tom. He just reminded me so badly of what I'd done. He didn't deserve me leaving. He was going through it as well. "

**Sherlock's pov**

"So that's why you came to London." Sherlock says, shocked. "Ramona, I-I never-" Sherlock looks at her slumped form on the couch. She had passed out. Great. He walks over to the couch, no longer limping. The detective picks her up, surprisingly easily. He enters her unlocked flat, to find Hannah typing intensely typing at her expensive laptop. She looks up and her eyes widen in shock, her busy hands stopping suddenly. "What happened to you?! Have you two been attacked? Oh my god not ag-" Sherlock butted in before she had more time to worry. "Don't worry, She just attacked me and then fainted." Her brows furrow in further. "Well, it was of course... provoked. As innocently as possible of course." The detective is suddenly hyper aware of his arms holding suddenly such a fragile limp body, and he was terrified of dropping it. "I'm going to put her in her room. Which one?" Hannah points at a tall white door, and Sherlock paces towards it. Inside the room there's a double bed with all white sheets, the whole room being extremely white washed, like the whole of the apartment. There's a bedside table next to it that's also white, a big metallic lamp resting on it, and 3 small different type of cacti, all in little brick red pots. Books litter the windowsills, differing from gargantuan novels like game of thrones, (_the whole series_, Sherlock noted) to Alexa Chung's 'it'. There's a white wooden dressing table with an antique mirror hanging behind it. There's also a big wooden wardrobe, a full length mirror adorning one of the 2 doors. On the walls there are framed posters, all different shows and bands Sherlock had no idea about. He lays Ramona's body onto the bed and proceeds to take her shoes off. She doesn't even stir, and this worries Sherlock for some reason. He checks her pulse._ Its there. She's not dead, idiot. _He puts the trainers next to another pair in a long line of shoes. He sighs and sits on the end of her bed. She looks extremely uncomfortable. He decides to call Hannah to put her in her pyjamas, and left Ramona's room reluctantly.

**Ramona's pov**

Ramona wakes up in her bedroom groggily, and looks over at her alarm clock in confusion. 1:13 pm. _How did this happen? _She tries to jump out of bed, but quickly stumbles back to sit on the white sheets, dizzy from the sudden height. Shaking her head, she gets up more slowly. Ramona looks down and acknowledges what she's wearing_. Pyjamas. I was up 4 hours ago! _She slowly recalls the days events so far. _oh._ She quickly changes into her past outfit that had been neatly folded and went to wash her face.

"Hannah?" Her voice still grainy from being unconscious. "Oh, Ramona! You're finally up!" Hannah jumps up and hugs the disorientated girl with wide blue eyes. "Wheres my letter?" Ramona asks, remembering how it had supposed to have been be her days focus. "Hm? Oh, yes your letter. It'll be with Sherlock, must've forgotten it when he carried you up here" Ramona felt her face burn. _Of course I had to faint. Textbook. _"I'll, um, go get it then, They'll probably end up getting it lost with a human limb or something. Be back in two minutes, Han." The frizzy haired girl nods and gets back to her laptop.

Ramona knocks on the door three times, and waits for three seconds before the door swings open, and she has to lean her head up to meet Sherlock's grey eyes. "I left my letter here." She states flatly, not wanting the detective to see her obvious embarrassment at the events that had transpired in his flat. "Ah, yes. I must have forgot. Come in." Ramona walks past the tall man to find John sat in his chair reading the newspaper, which he looks up from to see Ramona. "Oh, hi! I hear you're the reason for the current state of Sherlock's face!" He says, completely lightheartedly. Ramona chuckles. "Well, I was extremely provoked to be fair John." "Aren't we all, Ramona?" They both laugh, causing a scowl to spread across Sherlock's features. His literally black eyes follow Ramona, like she wouldn't notice. Ramona grabs the white envelope that was lying on the wooden table. "So, when are you starting uni Ramona?" asks John, always wanting small talk. "Next week." She replies with an excited smile. "Absolutely can't wait." John smiles, reminiscing. "One of the best times of your life, Uni. You'll love it." Ramona smiles as well, and Sherlock's stomach tightens a fraction at this exchange. "youlikechips?" Sherlock blurts out, like it was a whole word. Ramona raises an eyebrow and Sherlock feels himself flush. "I-I mean, Do you, would you and Hannah like to go to this chippy with me and John? Since you're new and everything, you probably don't know anywhere or you know-" Ramona butted in before Sherlock could start rambling. "Yes thank you Sherlock, that's very nice of you. We'll meet you outside the building at six?" Sherlock nods quickly and Ramona waves goodbye to John with a smile. "Sorry again about messing up your face, Sherlock." And leaves.

**Sherlock's pov**

"What the hell was that John?" John looks up from his paper and frowns in confusion at the ranting man before him. "Why are you flirting with our neighbor, John? She's going to start University! You're basically cradle snatching! Honestly John! Disgusting!" John speaks up, almost amused. "If I remember correctly, it was you who asked them to come with us to the chippy, and why would you care if I was flirting? She's fully of age, but I wasn't, for the record." Sherlock sighs heavily and falls back into his chair. "Any cases, John?" The smaller man looks up and shakes his head.

Six O'clock came quickly for Sherlock, and he couldn't help but ruffle his hair in the mirror in his bathroom a few times before exiting his flat. Standing outside in the lingering summer sun, he is a tall, mysterious man in a good long coat and scarf. The black door opens, and the two girls greet them. after pleasantries are exchanged, John rubs his hands together and suggests they set off.

**Ramona's pov**

_In Sherlock's defence, he does know good fish and chips when we sees them. Hannah and John are so similar. they way they speak, and their politeness, the way they approach life. They could talk for years on end and still be able to carry on a good conversation. This talent they share is vital, as me and Sherlock would probably end up attacking each other if we talked for too long. _Ramona stabs another chip with her wooden fork. Sherlock's not eating a lot, and she doesn't strike her to be the eating type. she wonders why he invited them out. Interesting. She looks up from her food to see Sherlock boring holes into her with his eyes, again. For Ramona, it was getting old fast. _John and Hannah are still nattering away happily, a laugh shared approximately every 6.2 seconds. _The busy restaurant has a crowded atmosphere, Ramona looks around and studies every person there. Two secondary school sweet hearts sit opposite each other, feeding each other chips and generally being cringey. Ramona rolls her eyes heavily, and focuses back on her food. Sherlock notices this and chuckles.

Ramona's eyes dart up to meet his. "Yes?" She say, raising an eyebrow. "You're very strange, Ramona. Most girls would have seen that and sighed obviously longingly. But you?" Sherlock leans in across the table to Ramona, narrowing his eyes. "You don't. It's... generally perceived as weird." Ramona chuckles. "You're generally perceived as weird, Mr Holmes." The detective snorts. "So is that why you've been staring at me like I just kicked a puppy? Or have I done something to offend the worlds only consulting detective?" Ramona jokes, but there's a strong hint of seriousness behind her smile. "Everyone else I see, I know about them. But you? Something very different indeed. You're not so much mysterious as... unexpected. You're very unexpected Ramona." His grey eyes quickly dart away from hers and are suddenly fixated on the table. Ramona raises an eyebrow and swallows, quickly putting on a facade of lightheartedness. "Well, I was going for mysterious, but unexpected's good i suppose."

He suddenly looks up at her, his face all too close. His features are completely unfeeling but beautiful, the light playing on his cheekbones, the shadows resting under them. His expression is completely intense, and Ramona feels her heart move to the front of her throat and her eyes widen and the proximity of him. He's studying her face very seriously, like an experiment, and Ramona felt like one, small under the undeniable presence of this strange man. She presses all of her back to the back of her seat and looks away, like the shock of lightning had moved her. She hadn't enjoyed that situation, or his almost predatory gaze, or how she felt like a scuttling mouse under this lion of a detective.

Sherlock leans back and put both of elbows onto the table, his fingers intertwined in thought. "You don't like being close to people. Emotionally or physically. Usually caused by early trauma." Ramona snorts and then looks him dead in the eye. "You're one to talk. I'm sure you have the exact same problem, if not worse. Or better, depending on how you look at it." She shrugs. "Correct." Sherlock states, to which Ramona quickly continues. "Also, you probably have an extreme intimacy problem. You have of course never... you know. Done it. You act extremely lethargic to any contact to people in general, you wear leather gloves whenever you leave the house, for gods sake. You insist you have no friends, but of course you do. However, it's not like you've never had any volunteers. I bet you've had women throwing themselves at you, however, with that face. Of course only to be either used, or eye-watering embarrassingly rejected. Why?" Ramona's brow furrowed. "You don't seem the type to be asexual, but that is extremely possible. I've never seen you show any kind of sexual appetite at all. Interesting." Sherlock replies shortly. "I just... Never liked any of them. All too cliche and boring. Typical." Ramona thinks about this for a second. "I don't know if that's outrageous or adorable. I'll go with in between for both of our sake's."

They leave and walk back in the now cold brisk atmosphere of a much darker, more appealing London, the air pinching at Ramona's face. She had always enjoyed being outside at night, the air was so much more clear, and the clarity of everything at night struck her as being one of her favourite things. They arrive at 221B Baker Street happy, and they all go their separate ways, Sherlock now making a routine of watching Ramona smoke her cigarettes at around 8 pm, and Ramona making a routine of watching him be oblivious to her knowing of grey eyes on her cigarette smoke. As she was drifting off that night in her bed, Her last thought was with the tall detective probably struggling to fall asleep too, and she didn't know why.

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**Hope you guys enjoyed! **

**I've got plans for this story, so I'm not rambling or anything, which is a first**

**please review and I'll love ya forever, thank you to those who have, it encourages me to write more! **


	6. Teddy Picker

**Teddy Picker**

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The black alarm clock sprung to life on Ramona's bedside table, begging for her to get up. She woke up fuzzily and moaning, until realising the date. Her first day of university. Running to the bathroom she had a shower and then got dressed into a pair of Chelsea boots, black leggings, a black crop top and a red plaid flannel shirt worn like a jacket. She grabs her leather tote and gently puts her macbook inside, taking great care with the leaving present from her parents. after taking one look outside of the big living room, she decided on a parka as well, heading out of the black door and pulling up her hood in the morning rain. The university was within walking distance, which was one of the many perks of living in 221B. Her neighbors cross her mind as being one of them.

Her stomach does somersaults outside of the big door of the old building. Taking a deep breath, she takes her first footsteps inside. Sitting in one of the chairs in the lecture room, 2 girls sit either side of her, Both as pretty and obviously smart as the other.

"Hi! I'm Ellie!" The freckled redhead on her left says. "And this one's Amber!" Ellie gestures to the brunette on her right, who obviously didn't

Ramona smiles genuinely "I'm Ramona. Are you living on campus?"

She asks, as they nod. Amber replies. "Yeah, we're roommates. We've been looking forward to this loads."

They chat pleasantly about their home lives and how London measured up. Ramona was glad that the two girls had decided to befriend her, she didn't really feel like being a loner. The lecture room fills up with young people, and a very good looking boy sits in front of them lower down with his friends. He turns around and smiles at her, his traditionally handsome features complete with deep brown eyes causing Ramona's brain to become fuzzy as she smiles back.

Amber chuckles. "The classes mandatory hot boy. You might have a chance, ray." She murmurs. Ramona laughs nervously, noting the very early use of a nickname.

"Are you guys doing forensic science as well?" The two girls nod. "That's a relief! Didn't want to have to walk to that hospital on my own, what a trek!"

They all laugh and Ramona's hopes are lifted, which admittedly did this little. The three girls pull their laptops out of their bag for their business lecture, which Ramona wasn't too fussed about, but decided to try for her parents sake.

They reach the hospital, Ramona more confident and excited than nervous. The trio walk through the hospital to the morgue. A small woman is there, looking at a man with curly hair longingly, who was obviously consumed by his work looking down a microscope. It was obvious she liked him a lot, but she's mousy and shy, although very pretty. They walk further in, and Ramona's eyes widen. It was Sherlock. A laugh escaped her, almost pitying the woman. How silly do you have to be to fall in love with Sherlock Holmes? He instantly looks up, his eyes meeting hers, and Ramona felt herself flush with the attention.

"Hello Ramona." he said in his baritone voice.

The woman spoke up, all too obsessed. "How do you know her?"

Sherlock doesn't look away from Ramona, and murmurs. "Neighbor."

To the small woman, that Ramona was starting to pity a lot. Ramona smiles widely at her, only to have her smile fakely and quickly at her, the corners of her mouth turning up, but her eyes not changing.

"She's here for a class." He says, turning back to his work.

The two girls behind Ramona share a look. "Yeah, er, sorry, must be the wrong room."

The small woman lightly scowls at the girl, causing Sherlock to smile, still looking into his microscope. The girl leave, Ramona more awkwardly than the others.

They find the right room and sit in blue seats.

"That was weird." States Amber.

"He was alright though, wasn't he." Ellie says, smiling.

"He's my neighbor, a detective, and he apparently goes to the morgue for shits and giggles." Ramona remarks, looking at her black nails.

"Yeah, but he's hot." Says Amber, giggling with Ellie.

Ramona smiles at the two girls antics, and sit through the lecture, Concentrating much harder than in her last one. It was mainly talk of how gruesome the people they were going to look at were, and how it wasn't for the faint hearted. Some of the people in the class looked uneasy in a place where there were more corpses than the alive, but it didn't really bother Ramona.

They walked out of the hospital into busy London, suddenly nothing but spare time ahead of them.

"There's a freshers night at this club tonight, you feel like coming? They've got really cheap booze." Ellie laughs. Ramona considers this for a while, and remembers Hannah.

"Sounds like something my flatmate would like, I'll ask if she wants to come, I'll give you my number and text you if I can." The two girls put Ramona in their contacts and they head separate ways.

Ramona races up the first flight of stairs of 221B, her mind elsewhere. She opens the door to her flat, to see that Hannah isn't home yet. She shrugs and puts her bag in her room. Suddenly she hears the sounds of a violin drifting through the floorboards from downstairs. _ actually pretty good, as the violin goes. _She then spies her electric guitar and smirks. plugging it into the amp, she begins to gently play the chords of Do I Wanna Know. The walls are surprisingly paper thin, and she hears a very audible scowl from downstairs. She smirked and played louder. suddenly there was a loud and fast knocking on the door. "Come in!" She shouted over her playing. Sherlock stormed in, his jaw locked, at which her smirk grew.

"Yes?" Sherlock than shouted some words that she couldn't hear over her black guitar. "I can't hear you! Can you speak up?"

At this Sherlock got angrier, paced over to her and clamped his hands around her wrists so she couldn't play. Her breath became faster and she leaned back, hating that she could feel his breath on her. She realised that this was his way of intimidating her. And it worked.

"Will you stop now?" He speaks in a hushed voice, and it sends a chill through her. Ramona quickly pulls her wrists out of his grip, coming back to her senses.

"Were you trying to take my pulse again?" Sherlock shrugs and doesn't step back. "Also, you don't like physical contact, so what's so special about me?"

Sherlock steps back, anger contorting his features, but she didn't know why he was angry. "Special? You? You're just some hopeful university girl, who thinks that she's smart and so damaged that she has to have these massive issues just because she got mugged and shot someone. Great, so you shot someone. If it made you move to bloody London, you must be extremely sensitive and faint hearted. You're just a silly little girl who had a slight bump in the road. You're not special, Ramona. In fact, you were never special at all, you were in fact so average that it made you look special because of how boring you are! So predictable, dull, stupid, you think you're special to me? You're not anything Ramona. Nothing to me."

Ramonas eyes were stinging at the insults, and she had to blink a few times to comprehend what he had just said. Suddenly a fire grew in the pit of her stomach, curling up the side of her stomach and up her throat, where it exited out of her mouth. "For someone who has an IQ of 190, you're really fucking stupid. Do you think I care what some socially retarded consulting detective thinks about me? Some pretentious prick who wears a long coat to try and look mysterious? Also, if I'm so predictable, you should of seen this coming." She says with a smile, as her fist collided with cheekbone. Admittedly, she resorted to violence too much, but she had never been a slapping type of person, she had always thought of that as being too soap opera, and also much less painful.

"Oh my god, did you _really _just punch me again?" Sherlock cries.

"No offence Sherlock, but the way you act, You're going to have to get used to that. You're a complete dickhead." She shrugs.

"You have major anger issues, Ramona." Sherlock shakes his head and looks in the mirror.

"Me?! I have the anger issues here?! I'm not the one who went berserk because someone asked why you were touching them." Ramona massaged her temples.

"Maybe we're both as bad as each other." They both nod at this.

"We should go to anger management together." Ramona murmurs, causing Sherlock to laugh. "Did you mean what you said? I don't really care that much, I'd just like to know if it was something said in the heat of the moment."

She instantly regrets saying this, and braces herself for the current of Sherlock's harsh words to drag her under. "I-I don't know. Honestly, you make me very angry, and I don't know why." Ramona sighs at this.

"I don't know if that was an apology, or even... I don't even know what that was, but I'll accept it. So anyway, why are you messing around with that poor girl's feelings to get into a morgue?"

Sherlock smirks at this. "I can't help it if my good looks get me places."

Ramona feels annoyance at this. "You can't just use someone like that. She is quite obviously in love with you, Sherlock."

His eyes snap up to meet hers, eyes wide. "Wait... Do you like her back? That is a very strange way of showing affection."

Sherlock shakes his head furiously, and sits on her couch, elbows on his thighs, fists on his jaw. "I don't... I am not in love with Molly. I-I need to go." At this, he paces out of the flat and walks out of the building, walking off in a random direction, leaving Ramona as confused as ever.

Hannah arrives at 221B, her bag stuffed with coursework. Ramona's waiting in the flat, smoking a cigarette out of one of the large living room windows. Hearing her footsteps, she stubs it out, closes the window, and throws the cigarette into the bin in 2.3 seconds, a moment before the door opens. "Hi Han! How was you day? Mine was good-" Hannah moves quickly to hug her flatmate, squeezing the living daylights out of her.

"I have so much work Ray! It's only the first day for gods sake!" She cries with a certain frown on her face.

"Well I have something to cure you! A good party!" Hannah's eyes light up, but then die down again.

I'm really sorry, I can't. I have all this work." She gestures to her bag.

"Oh, um, okay. Your don't mind if I go still?" Hannah shakes her head furiously.

"Go! Have fun! I'll be here being a granny! Don't worry." Ramona admittedly felt very guilty about this, but it wasn't her decision. She decided to text Ellie.

**can definitely come tonight, what kind of dress, what time and place? **

she replied almost instantly.

**dress up! we'll meet you outside your house at 9, I'd love to get another look at that detective of yours ;) **

Ramona smiled and rolled her eyes at this.

**Okay, and dont even bother, hes a complete nutter.**

The blonde haired girl decided on a simple black body-con dress, black heeled boots, a leather jacket, and a gold necklace with an 'R' on it, which Ramona had decided looked ironically tacky, and strangely liked it. Taking one last look in the mirror, She left 221B, locking the big black door behind her, to find the two girls just about to knock. They all laughed and quickly set off. When they arrived at the nightclub, the loud music hitting Ramona like a tonne of bricks and the lights dazzling her. The girls went straight to the bar and ordered something strong, laughing when Amber showed how much of a lightweight she was.

"Look! Its that boy from business! Phwooar, he's well fit." Ramona laughs, but then nods along with Ellie. Amber and Ellie soon want to dance, but Ramona never was one for that sort of thing, so she stood leaning against one of the walls. The boy that Ellie had been speaking about notices her and walks up to her, smiling.

"Hey, I'm Tobias." He says with a cool smile, Ramona's stomach doing somersaults.

"I'm Ramona. I see you'd like to join the we're-too-cool-to-dance club?" She jokes, causing him to laugh.

"Yes, but I see that membership is very exclusive." He says, grinning. Ramona decides that she likes this boy.

"You're in my business class, right?" Ramona nods. "You look very different in this light." He states, studying her. He had black messy hair and deep brown eyes, and admittedly a very cute face.

"I'm also glad there's someone who doesn't like dancing as much as me." He says, leaning onto the wall beside her, watching the people dance.

"I only know like two people here, so I'm not sure, but it seems like I'm your only choice." Ramona replies, smiling.

"I'm not too miffed about that." They both smile at this, and Ramona notices a slight cockney twang in his voice.

"So, what's a northern girl like you doing down here?" She's slightly surprised by this, as she has little to no accent at all.

"Lots of things really," She lies. "just in need of a little change of scenery." She shrugs, as he pulls out a black sharpie from his pocket.

"I'll give you my number, I have to go now, we should meet sometime." He smiles, as Ramona gives him her hand for him to write down the word Tobias, his number, and a single x.

"Bye" She says with with a smile. "see you later, oh, and call me Toby." He replies, exiting the dark club.

"Oh my god! You just pulled!" Squealed Amber, a ,little bit tipsy. Ramona laughs and nods. "You're not drunk enough, lets do shots!" Ellie was always excited, and it made everyone around her excited too. Ramona could handle alcohol well, and soon she felt a bit drowsy but very happy. After taking a few more, they decide to leave. They stagger along the pavement, holding onto each other and giggling. They reach 221B and Ramona stumbles inside. She can hear pacing footsteps above her. It was 1am. She drunkenly walks up the stairs, her feet thumping loudly on the steps, her hands fumbling clumsily on the bannister. Suddenly the door a few steps away swings open, nearly hitting Ramona, to reveal a quizzical Sherlock.

"Yo, it's me Shezza, just got a little turnt at the club, feeling fly homie." Ramona giggles and hiccups, looking at Sherlock with glazed over eyes.

"You're obviously intoxicated. This is extremely annoying. You have disturbed me twice in the night and its getting very annoy-" His voice is stern but his face is smiling.

"Hmmm, you were already up," She takes a few wobbly steps towards the detective and pokes him in the chest. "but sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your love nest." She playfully winks.

"I'am not gay, Ramona." He replies, a slight annoyance in his voice.

"How would you know?" She asked, slurring her works and making Sherlock's eyes narrow. "I like your dressing gown. Very swaggy."

Sherlock rolls his eyes and decides she is very drunk. "Cmon cheekbones, you know you love it really. I have to go home now, and its an extremely long walk to that place from here. You have very grey eyes. Yes." She leans it to get a proper look, her brow furrowed with concentration. She suddenly starts giggling. "Your hairs really curly." She starts smiling like an idiot.

"Yes well done, you have identified my face. Would you like a certificate? A medal perhaps?" He raises an eyebrow and looks down at the woman.

"Yes please! I have to go now though, Hannah's hopefully kept the door unlocked, I forgot my key, and she's a massively deep sleeper. Goodnight, detective." Another squeaky hiccup escaped her. Sherlock laughed and went back into his apartment. Ramona walks up the next flight of stairs much more efficiently, and trys the door. _Locked. awks. _She knocks, which has no response. She can hear faint snoring, which makes her giggle. She then calls her a few times, which has no response either. _Great. I'm going to have to sleep on their couch. I'm going to have to sleep on Sherlock's couch. _

She knocks on their door clumsily, and the door opens quickly again, and her eyes meet with an extremely done Sherlock.

"Hi. Um, I can't get into my flat." She says with embarrassment.

"Great. Your point?"

"Um, well did I mention how nice your dressing gown is?" He nods "Wellllll, could i sleep on your couch?"

"You punched me today."

"That was actually technically yesterday." He gives her a look. "Okay, I'm sorry. But you were being a prat."

He sighs. "Fine." He opens the door more to let her in, and she walks in, trying to control where her feet go.

"John's asleep, so please try to be quiet."

She nods mockingly seriously. "Yes sir." She looks around. "Why are you up at this time anyway?"

He sits in his chair. "I don't need it."

"How are you not completely mad all the time? Wait, don't answer that. That's probably an answer to my most prominent question to you." She says, still slurring her words.

He smirks. "You can... you can use some of my pyjamas if you want." He said quietly.

"I never took you for a pyjama sort of guy. You're definitely a boxer guy but, pyjamas? Interessante, Monsieur Holmes. That'd be nice thanks. Where are they?"

"2nd draw on the right of my drawer."

she slips off her shoes, lowering herself one and a half inches, and walks to his room. Its dark, a poster of the periodic table on one of the walls. She smiles at this._ Nerd. _she quickly changes in the bathroom, tip toeing as to not wake John. She changes into a big plain t-shirt that reached to the middle of her thigh and long black cotton trousers that were obviously too big for her, engulfing all of her feet. Ramona walked back to the living room, putting her dress besides her folded on the floor. She lies there silent for a second, pulls a blanket over her and then looks up at Sherlock typing away at his computer.

"Thanks for this. Really didn't fancy being homeless tonight." She smiles genuinely, surprisingly comfy.

"It doesn't matter. I-" He looks at her and pauses. Admittedly for Sherlock, he didn't mind the sight of her in his clothes, which was perverted for him. "Its just my couch."

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Am I the first girl that's been in your bedroom?"

"I thought you didn't fancy being homeless tonight."

She giggles loosely. "I didn't hear a no."

"Why, do you like that fact?"

She suddenly flushed and pulled the blanket further up to just beneath her big eyes. "So its a fact then." She mumbles under the blanket.

"I'll throw you out, and I won't regret it." He looks over at her, and his eyes find her pale arm. on her hand there's something scrawled across it, that's upside down to him. He squints his eyes as he tries to read it. "Who's Tobias?" He asks.

"Hm? Oh, a boy I met today. I got his number. Pretty cute actually."

He feels a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that makes him shout and possibly smash a few plates. "Are you going to call him tomorrow?"

She raises an eyebrow at his genuine interest. "I prefer to text, actually."

There's a pause."What a ridiculous name." He sniffs indifferently.

"Because there's absolutely no hypocrisy in that statement, Sherlock." She says.

"I thought you were drunk."

"I'am, but I can still use big words, even if I slur them."

He laughs at this, and turns back to his laptop. "Get to sleep, you're going to be monumentally hungover in the morning."

"2 things wrong with that. Number one," She holds up her thumb above her. "I don't get hungover, and I dont know why, probably a fast metabolism. Number two," She holds up another finger above her. "It's already morning. You're getting slow."

He rolls his eyes. "Do you always have to answer back?"

"It's just one of my many qualities. Or faults, deciding on how you look at it. Anyway, I'am actually going to sleep now. Night Sherlock."

"Goodnight." He replied, and watched as the movement of her chest slowed down to a slow, regular movement.

* * *

**sorry for the amount of words, i like long chapters :)**

**I started doing the dialogue in paragraphs, hope it makes it easier to read!**

**writing chapters with drunk people in are always fun**

**thanks for the reviews, it really gives me motivation to keep going**


	7. Catapult

**Catapult**

I own nothing but the oc's

* * *

Ramona wakes up slowly, starting to panic when she doesn't see her bedroom. She jumps off the couch, only to get dizzy and slowly sit down again. She gathers her wits and takes in her surroundings. An unfamiliar bedroom. There's a poster of the periodic table on one of the walls. No one she would be in the bedroom of then. _Please don't tell me I had a one night stand. Oh my god, I don't remember anything! This is really bad._ There's a clock on the wall. 8:30 am. She sighs and gets up slower. There's a full length mirror opposite her leaning against the wall._ I definitely doesn't own these clothes. A mans, around six foot. not fat or skinny either. At least if I have had sex, it wasn't a disgusting man. It smells nice as well, very, well kept? Kind of like, old books, or the smell when you get a new book and you flick the pages in front of you just to smell it. But if I did do anything, Why am I in his clothes? Is he just a massive gentleman? _Ramona smiled and decided that if she had had a one night stand, the man wouldn't make her regret it. She shakes her head, trying to remove the heavy fog from yesterday night. Something catches her eye on her hand. Toby. _I'll give you my number, I have to go now. We should meet up sometime. _A pair of smiling brown eyes. Had she slept with this man? Ramona opens the white door, and walks heavily into a hallway. With a confused expression, she walks further, and her stomach, (Now an experienced gymnast) does several anxious flips. Sherlock's flat.

Sherlock looks up at her over his paper, only to look back down. "Sleep well?" He asks, in his baritone voice, confusing her even more.

Her eyes widen. "Was- Why- What was I doing in your bedroom?!" She cries.

"Sleeping."

"And these are your clothes, I'm assuming?"

He smirks. "I believe so."

She sighs. "Sherlock this isn't the time for speaking in bloody riddles, what am I doing here? Did I- Did we... Sleep together?"

He laughs at the girl, making eye contact. Her stomach tightened. "No, nothing like that. You came home very drunk, got locked out, so you slept on the cou- my bed."

She raises an eyebrow at his mistake. "Oh... Thank you. Um, Wheres John?" At this, he walks in, carrying several shopping bags. His eyes instantly widen at the sight of Ramona.

"Er, Hi, Ramona."

Sherlock and Ramona both laugh at his expression, John raises an eyebrow at this.

"Did you two- What's going on here?" Ramona giggles.

"Don't worry, nothing like that happened. I got locked out last night, and Hannah wouldn't wake up, so Sherlock here was just being a good neighbor."

"Oh, ok. That would have been, very..." Sherlock shoots him a look and raises his eyebrow. "It would have been very surprising." He says quickly.

She laughs, as she spots her folded dress and shoes next to the couch. _If I slept in the bedroom, why are my clothes here? _Sherlock follows her gaze and his eyes widen. John looks at the pair staring at what he can see is the carpet, and decides they're both as mad as as the other, which was a first for when it came to Sherlock.

"So, do you want breakfast Ramona?" She snaps out of her track of thought.

"I don't want to intrude any more than I already have, John, it's fine."

"Gwon, you must need it after what looks like a full night out." She blushes at this.

"Alright then, if you insist." she smiles. Glancing in a mirror, she notices that she doesn't actually look that bad, no panda eyes, her hair wasn't that messy, but she did look quite out of it. Ramona sits down on the couch and looks around, her attention turning to last nights clothes. Sherlock must of seen her confused expression, as her enlightened her. "I took them out of my bedroom when I got dressed this morning, You would probably have forgotten them." It makes her go red to know that she was probably snoring in the same room that Sherlock was at one point naked in, she was never one to be elegant, especially when unconscious. There's a strange expression on his face when he says this, one that she's never seen before. She furrows her brows and studies him for a second.

"You're lying." She states.

His eyes widen for a second, before turning to face her. "What?"

"You're lying." She repeated. "I can tell. What really happened to my clothes? Unless they teleported, that is."

He looks flustered at this. "I- I'm not lying!" John cant hear them over the sizzle of the frying pan.

"Don't treat me like an idiot, Sherlock."

He tenses his jaw. "That's the truth."

She suddenly gets up to see what's making her so uncomfortable. Its a blanket, strewn across the couch in an odd manner. She picks it up, straightens it out, hangs it on the back of the sofa, and sits back down. She slowly starts to smile at Sherlock. "Sherlock, was the bed where I started sleeping?"

He visibly swallowed. How he ever got away with lying, she had no idea. She could see right through him. "Yes. What an odd question."

She laughs. "Another lie?"

He rubs his temples. "Fine. You were being annoying in the living room, so I took you to my bedroom. Is it such a crime?"

She smiles. "If it wasn't such a crime to you, why would you lie about it?"

"I just thought-"

"Did you carry me bridal style?" She asks, amused now. He narrows his eyes at her, making her giggle.

"Thank you, that was very sweet."

He picks his paper back up and pretends to read, this makes her roll her eyes. John set her breakfast down in front of her. "I added a bit extra for being the first person to ever get the last word with Sherlock." He says smiling, causing her to laugh. "Thank you, John." She smiles back and He sits down in his chair. Sherlock watched the exchange with a clenched jaw.

After eating her breakfast, She washed up the dishes for the boys, much to Johns protest. She grabbed her clothes, and walked back to her flat, telling Sherlock she'd wash his shirt and bottoms that she was in. She opens the now unlocked door, receiving a funny look from Hannah, whom she was glaring at. "Hannah." She said passively.

"Yes?" She asks timidly.

"What did I ask you before I went out?"

"To- To not lock the door?"

Ramona nods. "And what did you do?"

"Lock the door."

"Why!?"

"I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinking!"

Ramona sighs at her friend. She could never stay angry at her. "Guess where I slept last night?" She said with a smile.

"Where?"

"Sherlock's bed." Hannah gasps and starts laughing.

"Oh my god! Were you really drunk as well?"

"Yup. So embarrassing. Oh, I also pulled. He's fit as well." Hannah smiles at this. "Is it alright if I invite him over?"

"Yeah! Could use a hot boy around the place." They both laugh.

**Hey it's Ramona from last night, you remember?**

He replied after around two minutes.

**How could I forget? Wanna meet?**

She smiles at her screen.

**My place? **

she waits impatiently.

**Okay, whats your address?**

she has to think for a second.

**221b baker street, at 11?**

its two minutes before he replies.

**Wont be late :) **

She smiles, and decides to take a shower. After this, she painstakingly decides what to wear, before settling on light blue jeans, a simple white slogan top thing that she had acquired ages ago from some festival, a black Harrington jacket, and white air force one's. She takes a longer than required time to do her hair and make up, and goes and sits patiently in the living room. Hannah leaves shortly after, going shopping or something. The clock now reads 10:59, and Ramona feels anxiety creep up her spine and engulf all her nerves. Suddenly she hears a knock from the door of the building, composes herself, and jogs down to answer it.

"Hey!" He says, and she instantly feels herself relaxing.

"Hi, you'll have to excuse the flat, we've only recently moved in."

"You should see mine! You can definitely tell boys live there." They both laugh as Ramona opens the door to 221C.

"Woah, this is well nice." He compliments.

"Thanks, we got a discount on the rent, if you were wondering how I could live here." He smiles.

He looks around, and notices the guitars. "You play guitar?" She nods. "Ah man, I've always wanted to learn, but to be fair, I was just going to use it to pull birds." They both laugh.

"Well, it doesn't look like you needed it that much." He chuckles. "I can teach you if you want." She smiles as his eyes widen.

"That'd be cool."

She hands him an acoustic guitar as he goes to sit down, taking one herself.

"What d'you wanna learn?"

"Know any Kasabian?"

She beams at him. "A little, yeah." She grins. "Ok so, copy my hands. No, like- I'll show you." She moves his hands to the right strings, as he begins to play the sequence of chords. getting the hang of it, she joins in. "You're a natural Toby!"

He smiles at this. "I have a good teacher. So, what's it like living here? How are the neighbors?"

She laughs at this, making him confused. "The flats really good, but my neighbors? Ones really nice, but his flatmate is a bit... Eccentric. He's alright, though." She shrugs, and hates that the thought of Sherlock now fills her mind, like what his response would be, how he would look when he laugh, his eyes looking straight into hers...

"Hey, can I play it on the electric?" She snaps out of her trance and smiles.

"Yeah, of course." She laughs when he messes up completely, and moves his hands to the right places.

"I feel well like Alex turner now." He laughs. "A proper rock star." He grins, continuing to play. She teaches him another harder song, and she moves his fingers, and suddenly he grabs her hand, and she looks up at him. He smiles at her wide eyes, like a rabbit in the headlights. They share a moment, and then the door swings open.

Sherlock stands in the doorway in his usual suit, to see the pair standing very close together, their hands in a sort of high five, but with their fingers intertwined. There's a spinning, curling feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he wants to tear them apart, for some reason.

"Oh. I was going to ask for my clothes back, but I wouldn't want to intrude." He says, his voice short.

"Why do you have his clothes?" Toby asks, confused.

"She slept in my bed last night." He replies, smirking.

"What?" Toby's looking at Ramona now.

"It's not like that. He's just being indifferent. I got locked out last night so i had to sleep somewhere." She replies, staring daggers at Sherlock, and the detective was surprisingly pierced by them.

"Oh, this is the eccentric one." Toby smiles, and looks down at their hands, still together. She drops hers. Sherlock raises an eyebrow.

"So you're Toby I assume." He tried to deduce something awful about the boy, but there was nothing. Of course there wasn't or Ramona wouldn't be with him. He clenched his jaw.

"Yeah, and you're..." Toby outstretches his hand.

"Sherlock." The taller man takes his hand and makes the boy wince under the detectives surprising strength.

Ramona Rolled her eyes at the testosterone levels in the room. "Well, I've got your clothes on my radiator, I was going to Iron them for you."

"You left your oven on, Tobias." Sherlock spat the last word out like a curse.

"What? How did you?" Toby seems very confused now, and Ramona doesn't blame him.

"I'm a detective. Now hurry. Your flatmates not going to be home till seven."

His eyes widen at the taller man. "I- I'm sorry Ramona, I'll have to go. We'll meet another time though?" She nods as he takes off, out of her flat.

Ramona sighs. "Did you really come here for your clothes? Or just to mess up whatever I had going on?"

Sherlock shrugs. "A little bit of both. I was bored."

"Are you a sociopath?" Ramona blurts out.

"Yes, well done. A high functioning one as well."

"You really didn't like him, did you?" Ramona bites her lip whilst Sherlock stares.

"I- he isn't suitable for you. You need someone smarter, not someone who leaves their oven on." Ramona looks at him incredulously.

"What?! You're my neighbor! Not my dad!" He just stares. "Who would you suggest then?" Sherlock swallows.

"No one. Until you meet someone on your level-"

"Is that what you're waiting for?! Someone to come and 'be on your level'? Sherlock that's absolutely ridiculous. Maybe I don't need someone who can discuss quantum physics with me. For a sociopath you're extremely bad with people."

Sherlock is silent for a second "I don't want or need anyone. My work consumes me. I have no friends." He folds his arms stubbornly.

"Is that what you tell yourself? What is John to you? An assistant? You'd be absolutely devastated if you lost him, and don't you dare tell me different. Don't you dare, Sherlock. I can see right through you, read you like a book. Everyone thinks you're this loner with no love and only logic in him, but I know different. John knows different. Just about everyone who's taken the time to know you knows you're lying to yourself, trying to distance himself from humanity, trying not to get hurt, to not get close. I've done that. I may still be doing it now. But you're going to be caught up in the car crash that is life whatever you do, so you might as well be going a thousand miles an hour."

Ramona is silent after this outburst, and she spoke softer, walking towards him and looking him in the eyes, for the first time unflinching. Sherlock's holding his breath, as if to not catch the virus that is her words, her humanity, her truth. He exhales slowly and for the first time, he looks vulnerable, and undeniably sad. She tries desperately to predict what he will say, and she doesn't know where to start in his eyes. That's the thing about geniuses, in their eyes they have a million seperate emotions, and they eventually all blur into nothing, like when you mix too much paint together, and eventually it all just turns to a horrible brown colour.

"How do you do it?" Sherlock's eyes burn like dry ice, and she worries for him.

"What?"

"That. Feel so much and be able to put it into words. It is a ridiculous talent I have never been able to possess. I- You, you do something so strange to everything, you put words in my mouth that would never have been there in the first place and you steal the ones that were destined to be there. I never hesitate to speak, never. But with you?"

He looks at her like shes some kind of magic, a hallucination, something out of a dream. Or maybe a nightmare. Either way, Ramona feels like shes being undressed. Not like how drunk men greedily look her up and down and smirked disgustingly, the type that made her skin crawl. This was like he was undressing her physiologically, like all her feeling were laid out on the kitchen, and he was looking at then through his microscope, smiling to himself smugly.

"Sherlock..." She starts, and doesn't know where to finish. There are a thousand words she could have used, and instead she said none. Maybe that spoke louder than using them. His eyes are widening, like the angels themselves have come down from heaven and given him the meaning of life. Ramona decides that wouldn't have surprised her. He pins her against the wall behind her, and she feels her pulse begin to race. His eyes freeze into a state of shock, not moving from hers, and then he's leaning in, and Ramona is hoping she'll get out alive. She feels his breath on her lips, and the same smell of new books, and begins to feel dizzy. She doesn't know why he's doing it, but she hopes to god its not just an experiment, just another game. He's so close now, and she becomes hyper aware of his hands, still pinning her again the wall by the crooks of her elbows. She inhales quickly, feeling vulnerable, and at this, the door opens to reveal a shocked Hannah.

Sherlock flies off her, and shes all too aware of the lack of physical contact. His eyes are wide and he looks confused, he looks at her plainly, and totally platonic. Ramona's mind is completely frazzled by this detective, like a candle all burnt out. She has no idea what just happened.

"Wha- What were you guys doing?" Hannah speaks up, she looks between the two suspiciously.

"We were fighting again." Ramona says, knowing it was completely unconvincing. The detective is still silent.

"That didn't look like fighting."

"Well it was. Nothing more, nothing less. Me and Sherlock are completely platonic. If we were even that good friends."

Sherlock breaks the silence, and the apparent tension. "Well, I must be going." He's still looking at Ramona, like she was the only person in the room. He paces out of the flat, and into his, and they hear Johns voice from downstairs, and then Sherlock's in a completely casual and dismissive tone.

Hannah looks back at Ramona. "What the bloody hell was that about? I thought you were having a boy over?"

"I- I was. And then he just, made him leave, and then, fighting." Ramona's mind was spinning, desperately trying to get hold of a theory that would have made sense of what just happened. She could barely get her words out properly, her consonants coming out in the wrong order. Why did a detective in a long coat do this to her?

"Are you high, Ramona? Did you get high with our neighbor? Your pupils are completely dilated, and..." Hannah's eyes widen at the dazed girl, while Ramona desperately tries to stop the thought she was having.

"You like him?!" She squeals.

"I do not like man who has no social skills, is a sociopath, has one friend, keeps human limbs in various parts of his house!"

"Ramona's got a cruuuusshhh!" Hannah teases.

"For the last time, Hannah, I do not have a completely illogical fascination with our neighbor, whom I'm pretty sure is actually insane, so just stop it!" Ramonas getting angry now.

Hannah smiles slyly. "Okay, sure. whatever you say." Ramona rolls her eyes and then smiles at her friends childishness.

**Sherlock**

"Whats wrong Sherlock? You aren't acting yourself." Mrs Hudson, always concerned. However, she wasn't wrong to be. He had been reading the same page in the paper for an hour and twenty one minutes, if Sherlock counted correctly.

"Nothing, Mrs Hudson. I'm fine. Just bored." He lied. "Everything's a bit dull right now." Another bigger lie. If anything, these new feelings were the most fun he'd had since he can remember, and he'd never felt them before. His mind was constantly preoccupied with thoughts that felt like static on television.

"Can we go somewhere, John?" Sherlock thinks this must be the most vague thing he's ever said.

"No, sorry. I have a date tonight with Sarah. Big restaurant thing."

"Relationships. Stupid. Complete waste of time."

John almost looks hurt. "Okay, whats wrong?"

Sherlock shoots him an incredulous look. "I've told you multiple times today, nothing is wrong."

John sighs. "For a genius, you don't half act like a two year old." It sounds like something Ramona would say. Or anyone who knew him.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Are you gone yet?"

"Yes." John walks out.

Why was Ramona crossing his mind at least every three seconds? Was she just so annoying to the detective that he had to think about her all the time? Sherlock had recorded how many seconds he could go without his neighbor filling his head, and his personal best was 7.23 seconds. There was something wrong with him, he knew that for certain.

* * *

**Things are getting interesting :)**

**Thanks for reading, I'm actually enjoying writing this!**

**review to receive 100 puppies of your choice ;)**


	8. Brick By Brick

**Brick By Brick **

I own nothing except the oc

* * *

Ramona wakes up to a text tone.

**Hey, that was a bit embarrassing yesterday, but I'd like it if we could get coffee or something?**

She wasn't that keen as before, but decided she may as well.

**Yeah okay. Where do you wanna meet?**

**Well you probably don't know a lot of places, so I'll meet you outside your house at 11?**

For some reason, Ramona didn't like the thought of Sherlock seeing her with Toby again, but she quickly dismissed the dread in her gut.

**Alright, see you soon. **

It was 9 am on a brisk winters morning, and she had spent most of the night staring up at her ceiling, mulling over the days events. Getting a shower and breakfast, then dressed into black skinny jeans, a white top and a pair of converse had all seemed very surreal, her mind was very far away during these menial tasks. Her lazy roommate later walked out of her room, with hair that resembled birds nest.

"How do you get up so early?!" Hannah moaned, and Ramona shrugged.

"It's a talent.I'm off to meet Toby, anyway. Bye, Han." She grabs her leather jacket and walks out of the building, and decides a quick cigarette would be the best to calm her nerves that seemed to be fraying at the ends. Suddenly, two men in black suits walk up to either side of her, as a black Mercedes with matching windows pulled up in front of her menacingly. She looks at the men. _Late 20's both of them. Nice job, very expensive suit. Unarmed. A small dog. Two. Three. _She smirks. _What could they want with me? _

"You're going to have to come with us, Miss Doherty." They speak in a deep voice.

"Why would that be, exactly?" She raises an eyebrow.

"That is highly classified information. Do you know where you're going?"

She smirks. "How could I not?"

She waits in the back of the Mercedes, presumably waiting for Sherlock. Ramona feels strangely excited for this, whatever it is. Moments later, Sherlock walks out of the building, with just a sheet wrapped around him, looking very indifferent and amused. _Oh my god, he can't wear that to Buckingham Palace! _

The detective slides into the car awkwardly, not wanting to flash. He looks genuinely surprised when he sees Ramona Sat in the seat next to him.

"Why are you here?"

She took slight offence to this. "Maybe because they need someone who can deduce?"

He twitched slightly at this, turning up his nose. "Where are we going then?"

"Buckingham palace, of course. I really thought you would have figured that out by now. Getting slow, Mr Holmes."

He was furious. "I am not- I am not getting slow!"

"Because you always were?" She says teasingly.

He scowls and looks out of the window, unknowing to the fact that Ramona can see him smiling in the reflection. She remembers Toby and pulls out her phone to cancel, her long fingers tapping at the screen.

**Sorry, I'm not going to be able to meet you, feeling really ill :(**

There's a reply almost instantly.

**Oh, ok, we can meet some other time. **

She could tell she was starting to annoy him.

Sherlock smirks smugly at the fact she had to cancel, and Ramona shoots him an annoyed look.

"I'll rip that sheet off you if you don't shut up."

The two are met by John sitting on the couch, Ramona sits next to him and Sherlock next to her.

"What are we doing here?" John speaks up, as Sherlock stares forward calmly. Ramona pulls a confused look and then smiled.

"More to the point," She looks up at Sherlock. "Are you wearing any pants?"

"No." She sighs, and then they all burst out into laughter, breaking the silence in the grand room.

"Buckingham palace, fine." John tries to compose himself. "I am seriously fighting the impulse to steal an ashtray." The other two chuckle.

"Seriously Sherlock, what are we doing here?" Ramona asks.

"I don't know." The words sounded odd and dis pleasant in the detectives mouth.

"Here to meet the Queen?" She adds.

A man walks in, and Ramona quickly deduces. _Right handed, expensive job, high up in the government. Has an odd relationship with his brother... No, Sherlock's brother?" _

"Apparently, yes." Sherlock says, and They all crack up, still giggling as the stern man looks watches at them with an exasperated look.

"For once, can you act like adults?"

Ramona replies. They solves crimes,this one blogs about it, and this one forgets his pants, I wouldn't hold too much hope."

The man smiles. "Ah, Ramona. I trust you already know who I am?"

"Sherlocks big brother, literally and figuratively, of course." She smiles back at the chuckling man, Sherlock raises an eyebrow, not wanting to look impressed.

"My trust was well placed." He smiles.

Sherlock looks up at his brother, all humour now gone from his face. "I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft."

"What, the hiker and the backfire? A bit too obvious, surely?"

"Transparent." Sherlock replies, John looks startled.

"Time to move on, then." Mycroft bends down to pick up the clothes on the table, turning to offer them to Sherlock, who gazes upon the folded suit with disinterest. Mycroft sighs.

"We are in Buckingham Palace, the heart of the British nation." He starts more seriously. "Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on." Ramona smirks watching the exchange, whilst Sherlock shrugs at his brother.

"What for?"

"For your client." Mycroft replies.

Sherlock stands up. "Ah yes, and who is my client?"

A man walks in. "Illustrious," John and Ramona stand up. "In the extreme. And remaining Anonymous."

The man shakes hands with Mycroft. "May I apologise for the state of my brother?"

"Full time occupation, I should imagine." Sherlock scowls at this, making Ramona grin.

"And this must be Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland fusiliers." They shake hands.

"Yes, hello."

"And you must be Ramona Doherty." They shake hands.

"Hello." She's slightly dazed by the whole surreal experience.

"And Mr Holmes the younger. You look taller in your photographs."

Sherlock looks indifferent. "Take the precaution of a good coat and a short friend." The detective walks up to his brother.

"Sorry Mycroft, I don't do anonymous clients. I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases. Both ends are too much." He looks round to the other man. "Good morning." And proceeds to walk out of the room, to which Mycroft steps on the end of his bed sheet, causing it to fall to around his waist, leaving him grasping at it to not leave him naked. Ramona realises it wouldn't bother her too much. Sherlock now looks furious.

"This is a matter of national importance. grow up."

"Get off my sheet!" Sherlock says with gritted teeth.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll just walk away." Ramona feels something drop from her chest to her stomach.

"I'll let you."

"Who. Is. My. Client!" Sherlock's extremely angry.

"Look around and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for gods sake... put your clothes on!" Sherlock closes his eyes in fury, and intakes breath sharply.

Sherlock is now dressed and leant back on the sofa, his arms outstretched along the back. Ramona sits back as to not look attached.

"Here is your brief." Mycroft pulls out an A4 glossy picture of a pretty black haired woman out of an envelope.

"What do you know about this woman?" Mycroft asks openly to the three, Ramona decides to speak up at the other twos loss for words.

"Irene Adler. Dominatrix, professionally known as 'The Woman'. She was the center of two political scandals just this year, she also recently caused the divorce of a prominent novelist, by having an affair with the two of them." Ramona couldn't help but smirk at the last fact.

"Good, someone who pays attention the world." Sherlock scowls.

"Dominatrix..." Sherlock says thoughtfully.

"Yes, dominatrix. Don't be alarmed, it's to do with sex."

Sherlock replies quickly. "Sex doesn't alarm me."

Mycroft smiles slyly. "How would you know?" Ramona couldn't help but hearing her own voice in this. Sherlock stares at his brother, annoyed. "She provides, shall we say- recreational scolding for those who enjoy and are willing to pay for it." He hands them pictures from her website, with Irene looking her best.

"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs?"

"You're very quick, Mr Holmes." The man sat next to Mycroft says.

"Photographs of whom?" Ramona asks.

"We can tell you it's a young person." John drinks from his teacup. "A young female person." John freezes, Ramona and Sherlock smirk.

"John, you might want to put down your cup now." John complies to this advice.

"Will you take the case?" The man looks at Sherlock.

"What case? I suggest you pay her now, and in full." Sherlock suggests.

"As miss Adler says in her masthead, 'know when you are beaten'." Ramona adds, and Sherlock smirks at her.

"She doesn't want anything." Mycroft replies to the leaving Sherlock. "She got in touch, and informed us she does not intend to use them to extort either money nor favour."

Ramona raises an eyebrow and smiles excitedly, exchanging a look with Sherlock.

"Ooo, a power play. a power play with the most powerful family in Britain."

"Now that's a dominatrix. This is getting fun, isn't it?" Ramona adds, getting more excited by the minute. The three other men look between the two.

"Are you sure you aren't related?" John asks.

"Maybe they have the same home planet?" Mycroft shrugs, causing Ramona and Sherlock to scowl. Sherlock and Ramona reach for their coats.

"Where is she?" He asks.

"Uh, she's currently staying in London-"

"Text me the details. I'll have them by the end of the day." Says Sherlock, walking off.

Ramona stops. _Something doesn't add up. All the workers are non-smokers, yet they're ashtrays? Oh my god... _"Just one thing." She speaks up, and Sherlock swivels round to look at her talking to the two men.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to need equipment."

Mycroft replies. "Yes of course, I'll have it sent-"

Ramona butts in. "Can I have a lighter? Or a box of matches?"

The men look confused, Mycroft's friend answers. "We don't smoke." Sherlock smiles at the girl, knowing where she's going.

"No, but your employer does." They all look shocked.

"We have kept everyone in the dark about this little fact, Miss Doherty."

Ramona smirks. "I'm not the commonwealth." The man hands her a heavy, expensive and engraved lighter. "We'll have the photos by the end of the day. Good morning." She paces out of the Room with Sherlock and John, who throws an apologetic look over his shoulder before turning a corner.

The trio step out of the taxi into a wide alleyway, and Sherlock turns around to face the two. "Punch me in the face."

John and Ramona share a look. "What?" asks John.

"Punch me in the face. Didn't you hear?" He looks at him incredulously.

"I always hear punch me in the face when you speak, its just usually subtext." Mutters Ramona, making John chuckle.

"Yes, somehow I've gathered that, thank you Ramona." Touching his face absentmindedly. "Actually, you have a more powerful punch than John. You punch me." Ramona smirks as John looks genuinely hurt.

"I'm not going to punch you, Sherlock." He sighs and pushes her back gently. "I'm not that short tempered, give me some credit here." He grabs both her shoulders and slams her forcefully into the brick wall, winding her. She quickly knees him in the crotch and punches him in the face.

"Did you really have to use your legs?" Asks Sherlock, slightly crouching and wincing in pain.

"Bloody hell Sherlock, stop moaning. Don't touch her like that if you don't want a bad response." John sticks up for Ramona, and they exchange a smile.

The detective scowls at the fondness between the two. "If you two are quite finished being so... close, lets get to it."

John smirks. "Jealous?" Shock registers in Sherlock's eyes before a waterfall of indifference falls back over his face.

The taller storms starts walking towards a white house, pulling off his purple scarf. Ramona raises an eyebrow at this response. Quietly, John mutters, "I Didn't hear a no."

"Hello?"

"Ooh! Um, sorry to disturb you. Um, I've just been attacked, um, and, um, I think they ... they took my wallet and, um, and my phone. Umm, please could you help me?"

Ramona could practically hear the smile in the woman's voice. "I could call the police if you want." It's obvious the young woman is trying to hold back her laughter.

"Y-you don't think I could stay here until they come?"

"Of course. Come in." The woman opens the door. But its not **The** woman, Ramona notes.

"I'm a doctor, and this is my niece. We saw it all happen." John says, surprisingly confidently. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

"In the kitchen."

"thank you." The trio say in unison.

Ramona and Sherlock sit on the settee, the detective back to his usual indifferent self. "So whats the plan?"

Sherlock continues to stare into space intensely, as if he's not really there. Ramona tries to not take this as an insult, and fails miserably. "Get the pictures. We need to locate a camera phone. John's going to set the fire alarm off." She had no response, just studied his features more. "Also, If I say Vatican cameos, it's code name for duck. I don't think this is going to be dangerous, but..." His voice trails off.

"But?"

"I don't think you should be here."

"What?" Ramona didn't know whether to be hurt or flattered.

"You're extremely out of your depth. I don't even know why Mycroft wanted you here. Probably a mistake, and he just didn't want to be rude."

"I'm staying whether you like it or not, Sherlock."

He suddenly turns to her, his gaze is intense, but distilled with something else, that Ramona couldn't figure out. "Go."

Suddenly, a stark naked woman walks into the room, Ramona looks up. "Too late." She whispered to the detective, still looking at her. He turns around.

"I'm sorry to hear you got hurt, I don't think Kate caught your name?"

"I'm so sorry, I'm-"

Irene straddles him, and takes out his dog collar. "There. Now we're both defrocked." Ramona felt a strange feeling of twirling in her stomach that seemed to get into her bloodstream, until she could feel it in her wrists.

"And, of course, the apprentice detective." The black haired woman turns to her, making her feel ostracized, almost a third wheel.

"I wouldn't call myself that if my life depended on it. Pleased to meet you, Irene." The woman smirked.

"Oh, a spitfire, I like those. I also like detective stories. And detectives." She smiles at the both of them. _What does she want with both of us? A threesome is a definite no, sorry. Flattering, however. I can't deduce anything from her. _She shares a look with Sherlock. It was clear he was having the same problem. She could read him, but not her. "Do you know what the problem with a disguise is, detectives? It's a self portrait." brows furrow at this.

Suddenly john walks in. "I've missed something, haven't I?"

Irene looks up, almost amused. "Please, sit down. I could get tea if you'd like?"

"I already had tea at the palace." Says Ramona.

"Yes, I can see that." Their eyes are locked.

"We had tea at the palace too, If you care." John speaks up. "Also, could you put something on?"

"Why? Feeling exposed are we?" Ask Irene, raising an eyebrow. Ramona averts her eyes to her lap, where she wants them stationed until she leaves.

Sherlock stands up. "I don't think John knows where to look."

"Oh, I think John knows exactly where to look." Replies Irene.

"You, however..." Ramona adds. Sherlock's eyes show genuine hurt as he looked at the girl before a neutral mask was slammed back on his face.

"If I wanted to know where to look, I would borrow Johns laptop." Ramona smiles.

"You do borrow my laptop." Adds John.

"I confiscate it." Ramona stifles a laugh.

"Anyway, we have better things to think about." She walks over to the couch and pulls on Sherlock's coat, slipping off her black heels. Ramona didn't like the sight. Not Sherlock's coat. "The hiker with the bashed in head."

"What?" Ramona asks.

Sherlock replies to the girl. "A man in a car breaks down in a field, there's a hiker with a dog on the other side of the field, back turned, Hes a returned sportsman. The mans car gives out and suddenly the hiker's lying dead."

Ramona is silent, and is suddenly aware the whole rooms eyes are on her, practically watching the cogs in her head turn. twenty seconds pass. Her eyes widen for a brief second, and a smile spreads across her face. "Give me a hard one next time?" Sherlock smiles at the girl genuinely, meanwhile outside their bubble the man and women share a puzzled look.

Sherlock's eyes don't leave Ramona's. "Anyway, that's not the reason we're here."

"No, no, no. You're here for the photographs. And since that's happening, since we're chatting..."

"That story's not on the news yet. How do you know about it?" John asks.

"I know one of the policemen, well, I know what he likes." Irene answers.

"Oh. Do you like policemen?"

"I like mysteries. Brainy's the new sexy." She tells John, who's sitting down next to her.

"Positionofthecar." Says Ramona incoherently.

"Sorry?" Asks Irene.

"The position of the car relative to the hiker and the fact that the death blow was the back of his head. That's all you need to know."

"Okay, tell me: How was he murdered?"

"He wasn't." Ramona answers. Sherlock tries to suppress a smile.

"You don't think it was a murder?" Irene asks, leaning forwards.

"She knows it wasn't." Sherlock stands up. "The same way she knows that the victim was a sportsman returning from foreign travel as the pictures are in this room."

"Okay." Replies Irene.

"Thank you, so they are in this room. John, man the door." John walks out of the room. Ramona decides to stand up too, she hated feeling smaller than other people. "Two men alone in the countryside several yards apart, and one car."

"Oh. I thought you were looking for the photos now?" Irene is obviously confused. However, Ramona has cottoned on to what Sherlock is trying to do.

"No, no. Looking takes far too long. We are going to find them, but you're moderately clever, so we might as well pass the time." Ramona smiles at the woman. "Two men, a car, nobody else. The drivers trying to fix his car, getting nowhere fast. And the hiker, he's taking a moment. looking at the sky, perhaps the birds?" Ramona shrugs. "Any moment now, somethings going to happen. what?" Ramona asks.

"The hikers going to die." Replies Irene, unsure.

"No, that's the result. Whats going to happen?" Asks Sherlock.

"I don't understand." Says Irene.

"Oh, well, try to." Sherlock looks exasperated.

"Why?"

"Because you cater to the whims of the pathetic, and get naked to make an impression. Think." Sherlock expresses.

"It's the new sexy." Ramona adds and smiles.

"The cars going to backfire."

"There's going to be a loud noise."

"So?"

"Oh, noises, noises can hide things. They can also, however, reveal things..." Answers Ramona, and looks to the door. The fire alarm goes off, and Irene looks toward the painting over the fireplace.

"Thank you. In a fire, a mother would look towards her baby." He traces his fingers around the edges of the frame, lifting it off.

"Amazing how fire exposes our priorities." States the girl, watching the detective. "Really hope you don't have a baby in here." She looks to the woman, causing Sherlock to snigger.

"All right John, you can turn it off now." The beeping stops.

"Hmm. Should always use gloves with these things, you know. Heaviest oil deposit's always on the first key used – that's quite clearly the three – but after that the sequence is almost impossible to read. I'd say from the make that it's a six digit code." Sherlock thinks out loud.

"Can't be your birthday – no disrespect but clearly you were born in the eighties; the eight's barely used, so ..." Adds Ramona. Sherlock grins like an idiot, still facing the vault to avoid her seeing.

"I'd tell you the code right now but you know what? I already have." Says Irene, suddenly speaking in riddles. The pair of detectives frown at each other.

Suddenly, The door burst open, and the leader of a group of American's points his pistol at Sherlock."Hands behind your head." He then looks to Irene. "On the floor, keep it still." The man who is dealing with Ramona however, doesn't let her get down before he's pushing her down by her head hard, and then her whole body, and then hes got one hand forcefully on the back of her neck, the other one squeezing hard on her shoulder.

The americans hands on Ramona made her feel hysterical, and her breath shortened as she closed her eyes and tried to stop the panic attack. _Don't don't don't don't don't have one in front of these please no oh my god I can't breath I can't I'm going to die I can't get any air where has my oxygen gone no please oh my god get off me get off get off. _

"GET OFF HER!" Sherlock surprisingly bursts out, causing everyone in the room to raise their eyebrows.

"We'll do exactly as we please, Mr Holmes. If you haven't noticed, we're the ones with guns." Ramona lowers her head more and her hair falls in front of her face, her frame quickly rising and falling, trying to keep up with her lungs. Sherlock twitches at this sight and looks visibly pained. Ramona doesn't see this.

"Do you want me on the floor as well?" Sherlock spits.

"No Sir, we wan't you to open the safe."

"Ah, American, interesting. Why would you care?" His eyes don't move from the blonde girl.

"Sir, the safe, now, please." The american sounds rushed.

"I don't know the code."

"We've been listening. She said she told you."

"Well, if you'd been listening, you'd know she didn't." Retorts Sherlock.

"Assuming from your reputation, I'm assuming she did." John rolls his eyes.

"She's the one who knows the code for gods sake, ask her!"

"Yes Mr Watson, she's also the one who knows the code that calls the police."

Ramona struggles to regain her breath, and feels more dread mounting in her stomach. "H-he didn't- doesn't k-know, the code." She pained to push out the words between fluttering breaths.

"Shut up! One more word out of you, and I'll decorate the walls with the insides of your pretty little head. In fact, I might just do that anyway." Ramona finally regains her breath, holding herself up on her shaking hands and knees. Sherlock practically growls and clenches his jaw, his blue eyes almost black with rage. "In fact, Mr Archer, on the count of three, shoot Miss Doherty." The detectives eyes widen. The man presses the muzzle of his pistol into the back of Ramona head, who feels the unpleasant cold metal of it.

"One."

_I'm going to die._

"I don't know it the code!" Sherlock shouts.

_I'm dead._

"I'm willing to believe you any second now."

_Will it hurt?_

"Two."

_Please Sherlock, please please please please. Sherlock. _

"STOP! I- I know the code. Please stop." There was a pang in Ramona's stomach. Sherlock had said please. For her. He looked visibly shaken as his gaze becomes distant, his mind working fast. he enters a series of numbers, and the safe makes a loud beep. Ramona exhales loudly, and realises she's been holding her breath. Sherlock sighs loudly and closes his eyes in relief, instantly looking to Ramona.

"Thank you, Mr Holmes. Now open it, please."

"Vatican cameos!" He shouts as he opens the safe immediately ducking to the side, Ramona throws herself to the floor, as a bullet flies directly above her, hitting Mr Archer in the chest. She waits for the painful flashbacks, but there are none. She spring into action, hitting the man who was above John, And then the ring leader. She punched him hard in the gut, winding him, then took his pistol and smashes the butt end of the gun savagely onto his head, sending the man into unconsciousness. Sherlock stares at her, and she hands the gun to Sherlock.

"I don't like those." She says, almost breathless. Sherlock smiles, and he had a wild urge to take the girl in his arms.

"Don't you dare do that to me again." He said under his breath.

"Sorry?" Ramona didn't hear him.

"Hm? Oh, just thinking." Ramona raises an eyebrow at the detective, and then pulls on a neutral expression.

"We should call the police." States John to Sherlock.

"Yes." He takes off the silencer of the pistol and walks outside, and the women hear five gunshot. "On their way!"

Sherlock paces back into the sitting room, tossing a mobile in the air. "Well, that's the knighthood in the bag." Ramona's eyes widen.

"Ah, and that's mine." Irene holds out her hand to him. Ignoring her, he holds up the phone to her. It has a security lock, an I AM over four white squares, and under them a LOCKED.

"I'm assuming the photographs are on here?"

"I have copies, of course." She was lying, of course.

"No you don't." Says Ramona. "You would have demolished any uplink or connection, any chance of getting hacked. Unless the contents of this phone are provably unique, you wouldn't be able to sell them."

She looked the the girl, folding her arms. "Who said I'm selling?"

"This lot," She gestures to the dead and unconscious bodies on the floor. "Otherwise, you have something better than photos on that, don't you?" Her eyes glitter with curiousity.

"That camera phone is my life, detectives. I'd die before I'd let you take it. It's my protection."

Suddenly, they hear John shouting for them. They rush upstairs to a bathroom, where the woman who answered the door is lying face down. John puts an ear to her face and takes her pulse. "Must have come in this way." States John.

"Clearly." Replies Sherlock.

Irene walks anxiously to her friend. "It's okay, she's just out cold."

"Well god knows, shes used to that." She replies. "There's a back door. Better check that, doctor Watson."

"Sure." Replies John.

Sherlock walks out of the bathroom, brushing past Ramona, who feels the camera phone being put in her hand discreetly. She looks up at him, and they share a secretive look, before she puts it in her pocket and follows him into the bedroom with Irene, who stands next to her dressing room table.

"You seem calm." Ramona tells her. She looks at the two blankly. "Well, your booby trap did just kill a man." Ramona frowns at the lack of a response. Irene walks over to Sherlock silently and strokes his left arm, and then stabs a syringe into his right arm.

"W-what?" Sherlock asks dazedly.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?" She paces angrily to Irene, intending the worst, until Irene turns around and violently stabs her with one as well. "Shit..."

Sherlock's beginning to lose control of himself, and he throws himself onto Ramona for support, causing the girl to topple over from his weight. "Give me the phone!" She asks Sherlock, who's pushing himself off the girl, who is slowly gaining his symptoms. Irene suddenly brings out a riding crop. "Give it to me!" She hits him with it. "Oh, you don't have it." She looks over to Ramona, who's lying on her back. "But you, you-" John suddenly arrives through the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh don't worry, it wears off. I use it on loads of my friends." She's exiting through the window now. "But just don't let them choke on their own sick." She swings her legs over the window pane. "It makes for a very unattractive corpse." Sirens can be heard in the distance, Ramona's now unconscious hand is grasping the phone, Sherlock's arm is outstretched over her stomach.

* * *

**That was extreeeemly long **

**It's been a while, but I'm going to start adding actual sherlock now :)**

**please review, it keeps me writing**

**hope you enjoyed!**


	9. Best of friends

**Best Of Friends**

**I don't own anything apart from the oc.**

* * *

The drugged girl jerks back into consciousness. She's wrapped in her own covers, in her own room, but for some reason feels disorientated, like a teenager who doesn't have any depth perception because they grew in the night. She suddenly remembers what happened, and tries to stand up, but falls straight back down. She shakes her head, trying desperately to clear the haze.

"Hannah?!" She shouts, and a few seconds later the door gently opens to reveal a cautious Hannah.

"Are you alright? I could make you some soup if you wanted." Ramona had always been fascinated as to the caring nature of her best friend, which still puzzled her now.

"How am I here?"

"Y-you live here last time I checked."

"Yes yes but wheres the woman?"

"The woman?" asks Hannah in an incredulous tone.

"The woman woman!" Ramona expresses.

"Have you been hallucinating? God knows what you took..."

"The phone then!" She slowly lifts herself off the bed, supporting herself with a wobbly arm on the bedpost.

"The phone? Oh yes, It's in your jacket." She digs into the right pocket of the jacket hung on the back of the door. Ramona's bedroom was exactly the same as Sherlock's, so was the whole of the apartment, as hers was right above theirs. Hannah pauses rummaging and checks the other pocket. She furrows her brow and turns around to her roommate. "Er, Ray?"

"Yes?"

"Whats- what's Sherlock's coat doing here?" Ramona's eyes widen as she rushes over to check the pockets of all the jackets there, fumbling.

"The phone, it's... it's gone." She states. Suddenly a harsh winter breeze hits the two girls from her bedroom window, curtains bellowing in. "That- that wasn't open when I got here, was it?" The girls stare out into the north London landscape, sirens wailing in the distance, a starless night sky.

"Why would someone break into our flat, on the second floor, to get some bloody camera phone?" Ramona ignores the question as she goes to the window and shuts it with a bang.

"I know one thing," She walks out of the room, pulling on a pair of trainers. "Sherlock's going to be extremely pissy about this." She grabs the big coat and exits the flats, now relatively sober. She stumbles down the stairs to reach the door of 221B, falling against it, and knocking weakly. John answers.

"Hello, what are you doing up? Sherlock's still-" He's cut off by the detectives shouts.

"RA- JOHNN!" John smiles.

"Speak of the devil." He gestures for her to come in. He paces to Sherlock's bedroom.

"You alright?" He asks the detective.

"Wheres Ramona? And the phone, the woman." He's sat behind his bed on the floor, looking dazed. She walks in.

"I'm right here, coping with the drugging much better than you, apparently." Ramona didn't know whether to be proud or ashamed of this fact.

"I- I am fine." He states.

"Yeah, whatever you say." She smiles down at Sherlock in his crumpled suit. "Get back into bed, you obviously need to sleep this off."

"I'm fine, perfectly fine. obviously fine." She nods sarcastically, looking over to the window for signs of a break in. nothing had been moved or was out of place. Ramona goes over to the back of his door to hang the coat up.

"She broke into my flat. Well, more specifically, my room." She says nonchalantly, as if talking about the weather. Sherlock and John visibly bristled.

"Irene Adler?" The smaller man asks, concerned.

"Yeah. She gave back his coat, but she took the phone." John's eyes widen as Sherlock sighs exasperatedly into his pillow case.

"For gods sake." He yawns, making John and Ramona smirk.

"We won't keep you up any longer. Goodnight you two, we'll discuss this tomorrow." Ramona smiles at the sleepy form of Sherlock and says goodbye to John before exiting the flat and walking back to hers, where Hannah's jumping up and down excitedly clutching her phone.

"OH MY GOD RAMONA YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE IT!"

"No, I probably wont." She says sarcastically.

"Harry Just surprised me! We're going to Switzerland for Christmas!" She grabs the tired girls hands and does a little dance. Ramona thinks she can feel her spirit drop out of her chest and onto the floor boards. "Isn't this exciting!" Ramona had never trusted Harry, though there wasn't any reason not to. She had always felt he wasn't good enough for her best friend. But then again, who was?

"Er, yeah that's- that's great." Hannah sensed her disappointment, although Ramona had always insisted she disliked Christmas, along with everything else ever, she had always seen her roommates eyes light up seeing snow or 'reluctantly' putting up the tree.

"Hey, its okay, I'm pretty sure John, Sherlock and Mrs Hudson'll be doing something that they'll invite you to!" Ramona rolls her eyes forgivingly at her friend, smiling.

"What a lineup that is." They both laughed. "I hope you have a good time there."

"Me too." They both smiled, had a midnight snack, and went to bed.

Morning came too quickly and before she knew it Ramona was in the boys apartment, sitting at the table with John, watching Mrs Hudson dust. Sherlock strode into the living room, dressing gown flying behind him like a cape, his pace breaking on seeing her. She laughs at John's joke. He sits down at the table.

"Good morning Mr Holmes." She said jokingly.

"You're in a surprisingly good mood." His eyes narrow, making her lean back slightly.

"The real surprise here is the involvement of Americans in what supposedly is a couple of cheeky photos." John smiles at her choice of words. Sherlock leans in.

"Exactly! There's something more on that phone, but what?" He sniffs and picks up a newspaper. A few seconds later, Mycroft walks in, suave as ever.

Sherlock doesn't look up to greet his brother. "The photos are completely safe."

"Ah yes, In the hands of a fugitive sex worker." He says sarcastically, standing in the doorway of the room.

Sherlock puts the newspaper down. " She's not interested in blackmail. She wants ... protection for some reason. I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?"

"She'd applaud your choice of words. You see how this works: that camera phone is her 'Get out of jail free' card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Mycroft." Ramona watches quietly at the exchange of brotherly love. Her and John exchange a look.

"Although, not the way she treats royalty." She says to Mycroft, smiling, making John chuckle. Mycroft exchanges with a humourless smile.

"Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent John, Ramona and I in there? CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess." Ramona nods.

"Yeah, Thanks for that Mycroft." Adds John. Mrs Hudson sets down a plate of breakfast in front of Sherlock, making Ramona frown. _Why don't we get a Mrs Hudson? _

"It's a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes." Says Mrs Hudson sternly, patting Sherlock's shoulder.

"Oh do shut up Mrs Hudson." Snaps Mycroft. Ramona's Jaw drops.

"MYCROFT!" Her and Sherlock shout in unison.

"OI!" Shouts John.

Mycroft looks over their faces contorted by rage and cringes, looking over to his victim. "My apologies."

"Thank you." Nods Mrs Hudson.

"Though, do in fact shut up." Adds Sherlock. Ramona fights a smirk and looks at him disapprovingly. Sherlock could obviously see right through her facade, smiling at her.

Sherlock reluctantly looks away to his brother."There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see."

"I can put maximum surveillance on her."

"Why bother? You can follow her on Twitter. I believe her user name is 'TheWhipHand'." Ramona smirks at the way he pronounces the 'wh'.

"Yes. Most amusing." Mycroft smiles sarcastically. Suddenly, his phone starts to ring.

"S'cuse me." He answers his phone and walks out. "Hello."

Ramona turns to John. "So, What are you doing for Christmas?"

"Me and Sherlock-" Sherlock throws him a disapproving look. "I," He corrects himself. "Am going to invite a couple of friends round. You and Hannah are welcome to come, I was planning on inviting you anyway." She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes.

"I- I'll be sure to come, thanks. But- er, Hannah's spending Christmas in Switzerland with her boyfriend." She visibly grimaced, making John chuckle.

"Oh well, as long as she gets us presents I'm sure we can forgive her." He replied, grinning infectiously. Ramona suddenly felt a lot better.

Mycroft walked back into the room. " Bond Air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later." He ends the call abruptly. Ramona raises a suspicious brow.

"What else does this Adler woman have?" She asks, standing up.

"Excuse me?" says mycroft coyly. Sherlock gets up.

"The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more." He says to his brother. Mycroft looks between the two standing next to each other stony faced.

Ramona turns to Sherlock. "Something better." She looks back to Mycroft. "Something big's coming, isn't it?"

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you three will stay out of this."

Ramona smirks at this. As if this has ever stopped Sherlock before. "Oh we will, will we?" Says Sherlock.

"Yes, you will." Snaps Mycroft sternly. Sherlock shrugs and turns away to the window.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend." Mycroft says. Sherlock picks up his violin.

"Do give her my love." says Ramona to Mycroft, winking. Sherlock begins to play the national anthem to Mycroft. He rolls his eyes and leaves the room, Sherlock still playing following him out. John and Ramona grin at each other. Sherlock turns back to the window, still playing. Ramona realises she could watch him play forever.

* * *

**Sorry about the shortness, I have exams so I was rushing a teeny bit because revision :( **

**This was a bit of a filler to be honest, but it had to be done. **

**Review and I'll love you 5ever **

**I have a feeling this is going to be a reallyyy long story :)**

**thanks for reading!**


	10. Are You In Love With A Notion?

**Are you in love with a notion?**

**I own nothing but the oc**

* * *

The university was decorated to the nine's with fairy lights and festive stuff, giving it a much more warm vibe. Ramona hated to admit it, but she adored christmas. She still felt like a little girl at this time, and had never lost the sense of wonder accompanied with it. The trio walked out of the hallways after classes into the completely white london street. Ramona pulled out a wooly scarf and blew out air, making steam in the cold air. Hannah had left for switzerland yesterday, so she was going christmas shopping with Ellie and Amber, the giddy pair kept her interested in the shops.

"Ooh, look at these!" Amber gestures for them to come and look at a pair of very high black high heels. Ramona felt fear strike into her. She had about a 78.3% of falling and snapping her neck in those. She shuddered.

"They're bloody dangerous, that's what those are." The pair laugh as Ramona searched more of the shop. What could you get for Sherlock Holmes? She had presents for everyone, For Hannah she'd gotten a pandora bracelet with a charm, a jumper for John, a couple of books and some cute little house plants. But what to get for the man who despises just about everything? What to get that wouldn't make him scoff, roll his eyes or laugh? _Maybe I should murder someone and give him a case to solve. Oh, Cluedo! Wait, oh my god no._ She smiled at the thought of him playing Cluedo. A Tie? _He doesn't wear ties Idiot. It's the one thing he doesn't wear. _

"I don't have a clue what to get for Sherlock." She said absent mindedly, thinking the two girls were behind her. But someone else was.

"Is that a compliment, or an insult?" A deep voice says from behind her, giving her goosebumps on the back of her neck. She turned around quickly.

"Oh, Hello. Wasn't expecting to see you here."

"i'm... Christmas shopping." He said, as if it was murder. Ramona raised her eyebrow. The thought amused her. "What?"

"It's just, I can't really Imagine you giving anyone any presents, no offence or anything, but I thought John would have to put 'From John and Sherlock' On all of them." She smiled at the thought. Sherlocks brow creased.

"We're not a couple, you know." Ramona smirked. "We're not!"

"Yeah okay, whatever you say." She nods sarcastically and turns to look at christmas cards.

"I hate all of this, the lights, the music..." Sherlock shudders.

"That's the spirit! You're basically saint Nick himself!" She was in a very joking mood today.

"So, what are you going to get me?" Sherlock smiled. She turned to look at vases.

She sniffed indifferently. "Well, I was thinking, maybe commit a bit of homicide, give you a lovely case." She smiled and walked through the shop, Sherlock following beside her.

"How thoughtful of you." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Seriously though, what do I get the man who hates just about everything?"

He shrugs. "Well that's helpful." He smirks as she sighs. Her eyes suddenly widen as she hears giggling approaching them. "Play nice, please." Sherlock winks at her.

"Hello you two!" Says Ellie. Ramona opens her mouth to speak but Sherlock buts in, smiling.

"Hello, I'm Sherlock. I don't think we've met."

Amber giggles. "I'm Amber, and this is Ellie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both." He smiles at the two girls who are visibly fighting the urge to swoon, while Ramona fights the urge to laugh. _This is so unlike Sherlock, he honestly should of become an actor, well, he certainly has the looks for it... Shut up! _ Was she day dreaming about Sherlock Holmes now? She shook her head to try and get a grip of herself.

"Ramona was just having trouble buying for me, can you ladies think of any suggestions?" He asks coyly. The girls look at each other in thought.

"Hmm, maybe clothes of some sort..." Ellie drifts off into thought.

"I was thinking more like boxers." Amber winks at the detective who smirks back. _Oh my god... Is she, is he, ARE THEY FLIRTING? Amber and... SHERLOCK? what the actual fuck this is hilarious._ Ramona turns away to look at the christmas cards again, holding her nose to stop herself from bursting out laughing. The girls drifted off, saying goodbye to the two and leaving. Once they were at a safe distance Ramona burst out into guffaws.

"Oh my god Sherlock, that was... You, flirting, that was something else entirely." SHe starts giggling again.

He grins. "You did say to play nicely in all fairness."

"I have a feeling they won't be able to stop going on about you now. I'm going to have to put up with that." She smies and shakes her head. "I always knew you were a boxer kind of guy." She smiles jokingly. After about five minutes of wandering around the shop with him she was even more stuck then before.

"What if I got you... Bloody hell Sherlock can I just give you money?"

"That's a bit impersonal, don't you think?"

She sighs, exasperated. "I- I can't really get you clothes when your coat alone costs around a grand!"

He smiles. "At least you can recognize a good coat when you see one."

"Whatever, I'll surprise you I guess." She smiles and picks up a cute flatcap and puts it on Sherlock. "The real question is; What are you getting me?"

He tries to scowl at the hat and fails, smiling instead. "I don't know, what do women like?" Something twisted in her gut when Sherlock made a connection between her and women, as she had always associated herself as a girl. Maybe that time had passed for her.

"Oh," She puts her hand to her hand melodramatically and sarcastically. "Why kittens and rainbows and the prettiest diamonds and prettier boys!" She puts the back of her hand to her forehead and pretends to swoon sarcastically. Sherlock grins once again at the woman. A text alert on Ramona's phone goes off. She takes it out of her pocket and frowns.

**1 Message from toby**

**Hey! Want to go for coffee? I'm in town :) **

She pouts a little. Sherlock glares at the phone and audibly growls. She frowns up at him.

"What?"

"I've already told you. I dislike that boy." _Funny how for him I'm a woman and he's a boy. _

"Well, It does look like I'm done shopping and you need to get on with it..."

Sherlock pouts to himself before putting a stern look on his face. "I need a womans opinion. Statistically they're much better buying gifts than Men-"

"You'll be fine Sherlock. Just, no socks. Don't buy anyone socks unless they state a need for them." The detective sighs and puts his hands in his pockets.

"Fine, go. But for the record I do not approve of that relationship."

"I didn't realise you were my dad."

"Well, considering the age gap, I could be seen as a father figure-"

"I hate age gaps, stop talking about them. Also, you're in no way close to a father figure." She texted Toby back.

**Yeah alright, meet you at Nero? **

The reply was instant.

**Great :)**

The detective was peering at her screen, reading her texts backwards.

"Oi! Don't be nosy, thanks."

He frowns sarcastically. "That's literally my job, though." He smiled at the woman.

"Right, I'm off Sherlock. Have a good time shopping. I'll get you something good, I promise." She winked at him. "Goodbye detective." She walked off into the street, buttoning up her coat and carrying a shopping bag in each hand. Sherlock watched her leave and felt a strange sinking feeling as he did. The detective decided he didn't like the sight of her leaving, and would make more of an effort to stop that from happening in the future.

Walking down the bustling london shopping street, carollers and freezing buskers on every corner. She absent mindedly walked past a music shop, before doing a double take to look at it. _Perfect. _

Christmas came quickly, and after meeting with her university friends in the day, She headed back home to get changed into a simple black dress with mesh inserts. It covered all of her chest and her shoulders. She slipped on a pair of black high heels, put all of the presents in a bag and made her way down to the flat downstairs, noticing the sign that read "Come straight in" and followed the instructions.

As she walked in, She realised how warm the flat felt. Fairy lights were all around the place, and a lovely tree had been put up. All Johns work, Ramona decided. Sherlock's playing 'we wish you a merry christmas' on his violin, John's in an adorably christmas jumper, his arm wound around a woman Ramona could only assume is his girlfriend, and a man is stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Mrs Hudson is sitting in Sherlocks chair, as he finishes the song with a flourish. Everyone claps as Ramona stands a little awkwardly in the doorway.

"Oooh, wonderful Sherlock. I do wish you'd have worn the antlers, though." She was obviously a bit intoxicated, as she laughed. Ramona smiled at the woman. It suddenly occurs to Ramona that everyone's looking at her.

She smiled awkwardly. "Hello everyone. I don't think I've met you two." She gestures to the man and woman. She notices the men in the room are gawking just a bit, and feels very uncomfortable. Sherlock obviously notices too, as he comes to stand inbetween her and them, breaking their gaze.

"Yes, this is James Lestrade." He gestures to the man.

"Not my name, Sherlock! It's Greg." He smiles at the girl.

"And this is Sarah." The woman looks visibly deflated at this.

"I told you, he's just rubbish at names." John smiles at the woman as she folds her arms.

Everyone starts talking amongst themselves again as Ramona decides to talk more to the lestrade man. "So what do you do, Greg?"

"I'm the DI at scotland yard, that's how I know Sherlock and John."

Ramonas eyes light up at this. "Must be interesting, seeing him work."

"More annoying then interesting most of the time." They share a laugh as the door opens again to reveal the woman she saw in the lab with Sherlock. She recalls her name was Molly.

"Oh dear lord." Muttered Sherlock to Ramona. She looked at him, confused.

"Hello everyone!" John walks over to greet her.

Everybody greets her cheerfully as Sherlock rolls his eyes. She looks at him nervously as she takes off her scarf and coat to reveal a very revealing dress.

John goes to take her coat. "Let me, er ... holy Mary!"

"Wow!" Exclaims Greg in appreciation. Ramona went to sit down at the table with Sherlock.

"We having Christmas drinkies then?" asks the woman. It was clear that she in love with Sherlock. Ramona felt a pang of sympathy for her, as she was obviously trying to get his attention with that dress, and the present at the top of the pile, much better presented than the others, and probably for him. Ramona cringed internally, feeling her pain.

"No stopping them, apparently." Muttered Sherlock. Ramona kicked him in the shin under the table, giving him a stern look.

Mrs Hudson answers cheerfully. "It's the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me, so it's almost worth it!" Lestrade offers Molly a drink which she accepts. She giggles nervously and her eyes fix on Sherlock who's typing away at John's laptop.

John leans into the laptop, and Sherlock starts to talk to him. "The counter on your blog: still says one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five".

John pulls a mock angry face. "Ooh, no! Christmas is cancelled!"

Sherlock points to the side bar which has one of the press pictures of him in his deerstalker "And you've got a photograph of me wearing that hat!" Ramona's brow furrows as she turns the laptop slightly so she can see.

"I'll have to take a look at this tonight. Loving the hat, by the way." She smiles at John and Sherlock scowls.

"See? People like the hat."

"No they don't. What people?"

John walks away as Sherlock and Ramona continue to look at the laptop, Ramona giggling at the photo of Sherlock, at first making him scowl, until it turned into a grin. Molly watched jealously, Ramona noticing and stopping, giving it away to Sherlock that she was aware of Molly's infatuation with him. He sighed at Ramona. Molly turns to Mrs Hudson.

"How's the hip?" She asks.

"Ooh, it's atrocious, but thanks for asking."

"I've seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems." Silence falls in the flat as Molly stands there awkwardly. Ramona decides to laugh. Molly smiles at her thankfully, as Sherlock looks at her dissaprovingly.

"Don't make jokes, Molly." Molly looks visibly deflated.

"I will kick you in the shins every time you're mean to that sweet girl." Hissed Ramona. Sherlock rolls his eyes.

Molly turns to John. "I hear you're off to your sister's, is that right?"

"Yeah."

"Sherlock was complaining." He raises his eyes brow indignantly.

"... saying." She corrects herself.

"First time ever, she's cleaned up her act. She's off the booze." John said cheerfully.

"Nope." Corrected Sherlock, not looking up from his laptop.

"Shut up, Sherlock." Ramona and John said in unison.

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him."

"Sorry, what?" Asks Molly innocently.

"In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift."

"Take a day off." Says John quietly and exasperatedly.

Lestrade puts down a drink onto the table and slides it to Sherlock. "Shut up and have a drink."

"Oh, come on. Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag – perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best." Ramonas eyes widen in horror. He stands up and walks towards Molly, looking at the other presents which aren't as carefully wrapped. Ramona stands up and grabs his arm, giving him a warning look before letting go. He ignored her.

"It's for someone special, then."

"Sherlock..." Ramonas voice drifted off. He picks up the well-wrapped present.

"The shade of red echoes her lipstick – either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has lurrrve on her mind. The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all." John looks to Molly anxiously as she squirms in front of Sherlock. "That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she's seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she's wearing."

"Sherlock, stop!" Ramona shouted at Sherlock as he picks up the gift. She walked over and took the present from him, not having to read the tag to have to know who it was for. Ramona handed the present back to her, before whispering to her.

"He doesn't deserve whatever you've gotten him." She winks at Molly and goes to sit back at the table. It was fair to say she was furious with Sherlock, more angry than when he had had a go at her. To do that to Molly was plain evil. Sherlock swallowed and said sorry to Molly, returning back to his seat. People started talking again after five seconds.

"I can't bloody believe you Sherlock, you knew who that was for, didn't you?" She fumed, and crossed her arms and legs.

"What?"

"It- That was for you, Sherlock!" The detectives eyes widen in shock and he cringes at himself. Her brows furrow at his surprise. "I never took you for modest."

"I- I'm not."

"Thank god I stopped you. How embarrasing it would of been for the both of you." She paused. "Why do you use her like that?"

"I have to get into the morgue somehow." Ramona shakes her head.

"Please try to be nicer to her. It's not fair for her. She's obviously has a massive chemical defect for you, Sherlock, as you would put it." Sherlock smiled sadly at the girl. Ramona looks around, realising something. She walks to the mantelpiece, and there was a red present there that seemed out of place. She looked for the tag, and it read "detectives". Ramona gasps as she realises the contents of the box, and silence falls on the flat, all eyes on her. She closes her eyes sadly for two seconds, and then paces to the Sherlocks bedroom, calling Sherlock to follow her. Molly watches desperately. She sits on the edge of his bed, helplessly. Sherlock enters and closes the door behind him, confused.

"Call Mycroft" She says under her breath to Sherlock.

"Why?" he asks, confused.

"Because... They're going to find Irene Adler tonight."

"What?"

They- they're going to find her dead." Sherlocks face falls. Ramona takes out the camera phone shakily, and grimaces at Sherlock. He unexpectedly pulls her up into a hug, confusing the girl, but she didn't complain, just squeezed her eyes shut and tried to get the image of Irene's dead body out of her head.

* * *

**This was a really quick update**

**hugs are very cute especially from people who supposedly hate them**

**molly is cuter though**

**Hope you liked it!**


	11. Stuck On The Puzzle

**Stuck on the puzzle**

I own nothing but the oc

* * *

St Barts was more morbid then ever, the cold sterile hallways stretching into an abyss. In the morgue it was deadly silent, the kind of silent that makes its own noise and rings in your ears like white noise of its own kind. She looked the window to the morgue before Mycroft was there, standing over what Ramona could assume was Irene's body.

"You shouldn't come in." Sherlock said from behind her. She turned around to face him. "They only need me to identify her."

"I'm going in."

"Don't."

Ramona opens the door. "Too late." Her words don't match her face.

Molly's standing over the body. "The face is a bit smashed up so it might be difficult to see..." She lifts up the sheet and Ramona suppresses the primal urge to scream and cry and be hysterical or at least look away, but she doesn't.

"Show me the rest of her." Says Sherlock grimly. Molly pulls back more of the sheet.

"That's her." Confirms Ramona, she then paces out of the room followed by Sherlock. She looks out the window, watching the snowfall that seemed oblivious to a tragedy.

Sherlock looks out of the window beside her, and she looks up to study him. She could tell that he was in as much pain as she was, but was hiding it much better. He stays completely still, studying each snowflake critically with his eyes that seemed to change colour everyday. SHe looked back out at the snow. It was peaceful, and so quiet, and so still. She realised she wanted to comfort him somehow, maybe even hold his hand, but she knows that she doesn't know how, when she couldn't even comfort herself. Footsteps and the tap of an umbrella are heard behind them, but they don't bother to turn around. a hand comes over their shoulders, holding two cigarettes.

"Just the one?"

"Why?" Asks Sherlock coldly.

"Merry Christmas." Replies Mycroft.

To Ramona's dismay Sherlock takes a cigarette, and she takes one hesitantly, watching him carefully. "Smoking indoors- isn't there one of those... law things?" Mycroft lights the trios cigarettes.

"We're in a morgue- there's only so much damage you can do." Sherlock inhales deeply and then blows smoke out. Mycroft turns to Ramona.

"How did you know she was dead?"

"She had an item that she once said her life depended on. She chose to give that item up." She takes a drag of her cigarette.

"And where is this item now?" Suddenly the girl hears sobbing, and she spots a family of three at the end of the corridor on the other side of the doors, grieving. Her heart heaves for them. No on should have to outlive their children. The three turn to watch them.

"Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?" But Ramona knew there was nothing wrong with Sherlock. He was upset. No matter how much he insisted on being a sociopath, Ramona realised it was a delusional diagnosis. He cared about too many people, no matter what he said.

" All lives end. All hearts are broken." He looks to his brother. "Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock." Ramona felt a strange, transparent truth in these words. She loved them. Ramona releases another lungful of smoke into the air and shares a look of disgust with Sherlock, looking down at the cigarettes and then to each other. Low tar.

Mycroft clocks this. "Well, you did both barely know her." She felt a strange liking to this man, he cared about his brother, no matter how cold they both were. The Holmes brothers were a strange pair. She could only wonder about their parents...

"Merry Christmas, Mycroft." Sherlock begins to walk away and she follows him. He's obviously shaken.

"And a happy new year." She hears Mycroft's voice behind her as the swing the doors open.

Before they go in, she hands the phone to Sherlock, insisting he take care of it. Ramona enters 221B before Sherlock. He stops in the doorway of the living room, his eyes scanning.

"Oh, hi." Said John. Sherlock stays silent as his eyes roam the living room. Ramona realises what's happened at the flat. A drugs search in his own home. Who wouldn't be angry? But then again, John only wanted to protect him. Just as everyone else did in Sherlock's life. Maybe she did?

"Hope you didn't Mess up my sock index this time." He storms past her off to his room, slamming the door behind him. John puts down his book and sighs heavily.

"How bad was it?" He asks her.

"For me? Very. For Sherlock Holmes? Who could ever tell?" John nods. Ramona wishes she could follow him and do something for him, but she didn't know what.

"Merry Christmas, Ramona." John gives a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"Merry Christmas, John." She leaves and goes to her apartment, where she spends the rest of the night staring up at the ceiling, restlessly thinking about the man downstairs, and how she cared for him too much.

Ramona woke up alone in her apartment, and definitely felt the missing presence of Hannah. She wanted nothing more to call her about what had happened, but she couldn't bring herself to ruin her best friends holiday, with her insufferable boyfriend. She makes her way down to the ground floor, where Mrs Hudson's scrubbing away with a pink bucket full of cleaning products. Ramona instantly felt crippling guilt. It was becoming too commonplace in her life.

"Can I do that for you?" She asked softly. The woman instantly looked up, shocked and almost insulted.

"Oh Ramona, why would you want to do that dear?" the girl smiled and picked up a sponge to clean the sideboards.

"I've already started now, go out and get some me time or whatever they call it." Ramona smiled at the thankful woman, who stood up, and after a hug, left. Ramona cleaned for about ten minutes, until the Americans arrived again. Ramona's eyes widened and she quickly tried to scramble past them into the street, until they grabbed her and she kicked off. She used everything she could to get the hands off her, biting, scratching, and leaving warning signs for Sherlock in the hallway. She figured they were such idiots they wouldn't realise what she was doing. They forced their way into Sherlock's flat and tied her to a wooden chair. They quickly started interrogating her about the phone, and she hadn't the foggiest as to where he'd put it.

"Now I'm going to ask you a simple question, Miss Doherty." He gestured for one of his boys to slip on brass knuckles. "Where is Irene Adler's camera phone."

She tried to look disinterested, unphased. "I don't know, and frankly, don't care." She shrugged.

"I don't think you understand your situation. My boys here, can kill a man with one finger." Ramona rolled her eyes at the man, and his futile attempts to scare her. "And every time you answer with something I do not like, they ensure I like the outcome." Ramona sighed.

"I told you, I don't know. If I did I'm sure I'd be quaking in my boo-" Her sentence was cut off by a silver ring cutting into her cheek.

"If you could let me finish, I'm sure you would be much more enlightened on this subject. If I knew, I would tell you." She lied. "I'm a twenty two year old woman, do you think I'm going to risk something like this for some stupid camera phone I know nothing about?" Another lie. "the fact is, the most important thing I've got going on right now, is my finals, boys, and parties." More lies.

"Nice try. Why were you at Miss Adler;s house if any of that you said is true?"

"I got roped in, I don't know, it's the government and stuff. They're always making mis-" Two punches this time, and she tasted blood in her mouth. "That's going to get really annoying, please, let me finish!"

"No. I'm going to ask you where it is. Every time you reply with a lie, you'll get hurt." Ramona sighed and leaned back. She was in for the long haul it seemed. "Look, I don't know why you think I know bu-" Another punch into her gut, harder than the others. the brass knuckles had winded her and ripped her top. Her favourite top. "Oh for gods sake." She said under her breath as she tried to regain it. Over the next half hour, her arms became numb from being tied in an awkward position, and she was pretty sure the men themselves were tired. It was also fair to say she looked a mess. In spite of her first calmness, she was starting to panic. _They'll eventually get tired of me. Then what. Kill me? Something worse? Oh god... _In sight of all these thoughts, she started to cry, hard. The men became more uncomfortable then when they had been beating her up, which Ramona found extremely ironic and typical. They untied her and let her go to a bedroom for a cry. She then realised she could probably search for it whist they thought this. They closed the door behind her and she watched it close, and then saw his dressing gown hung on the back, with an print of a small rectangle in the pocket. She shook her head. _Idiot. _She decided the safest place for it would be in her bra, as inappropriate as it was. Her interrogation began quickly again, and it wasn't long until she was swallowing blood, had two black eyes, cuts on her face and bottom lip, which had bust, and she was certain a few bruises on her stomach, and heavy purple and green ones on her wrists. For the first time in a long time, she felt frightened. She hung her head forward, tasting rust as blood rushed over her tongue. making her feel sick. Suddenly they heard the door downstairs, and footsteps, in the right gait to be Sherlock._ He has to spot the clues. He has to. _Suddenly he was running up the stairs. Ramona suddenly, in spite of the seriousness of the situation, became very self conscious of her appearance. She was glad of her hair hanging in front of her bloodshot eyes. She heard his leather clad hand on the door handle, and then extreme relief.

"Sherlock..." She realised her voice is raspy, and that her breath was struggling to hold back whimpers of pain, and that she felt helpless. Blind rage set harder onto the detective's face, only softening to look at her.

"I believe you have something that we want, Mr. Holmes."

"Then why don't you ask for it?" Sherlock walks towards Ramona and crouches, putting a hand to the side of her face, she relaxed instantly. He looked concerned, as he analyses her state, looking at the bruises on her wrists. She sighed tiredly as he tucked her hair behind her ears gently and gave her a small smile.

"We've been asking her, but she doesn't seem to know anything." Ramona rolled her eyes at this.

"That's what I've been trying to bloody tell you!" Her voice is hoarse, and Sherlock gives her a luck that says 'don't push your luck'.

Neilson ignores the beaten girl. "But you know what we're looking for, don't you, Mr Holmes."

The detective glares up at the man. "I believe I do." he walks backwards and puts his hands behind his back. "First, get rid of your boys."

"Why?"

"I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room."

"You two, go to the car."

"Then get into the car and drive away. Don't try to trick me. You know who I am. It doesn't work." Ramonas stomach churns with anxiety. The two men leave the room and she hears the car start and drive away.

"Next, stop pointing that gun at me."

"What, so you can point a gun at me?"

Sherlock's eyes narrow with hostility as he steps back and spreads his arms out. "I'm unarmed."

"Mind if I check?"

"Oh, I insist." Ramona didn't like the feeling that these lines could definitely be in a porno. Neilson waks past her and she has the strong urge to trip him up, as he makes his way to Sherlock and pats down his breast pockets and then moves behind him, suddenly, Sherlock winks at her and before she can comprehend what's happening, he elbows him and spins round, punching him in the gut and with so much speed, he has him up by the neck against the wall, and Ramona actually feels scared for Neilson, she can see Sherlock's knuckles turning white.

"Don't. You. Dare. Touch. Her. Ever. Again." Sherlock spits at him through gritted teeth, before throwing him on the ground, rendering the American unconscious next to his coffee table. He pulls his gloves off and runs back to her and falls on his knees, untying her.

"Are you alright?" He looks over her face with concerned eyes and holds her face with both hands, forcing her to look at him.

"I'm... alright, I'm fine." She gets up from the chair and he stands up, towering over her.

Sherlock's brows furrow. "Are you sure?" He looks intensely into her eyes, but she doesnt feel uncomfortable now, as her eyes begin to fill up.

"I- I just, I was, I'm just a bit shaken." Her voice shakes on the last, her voice betraying her again, as his eyes widen and he pulls her into his chest, shocking her, as she tried to hold back sobs.

"It's alright, you're alright now." He said in hushed breath slowed and returned back to its natural state, but they still stayed like that until Ramona remembered the unconscious American on the floor.

"Uh, Sherlock?"

"Yes?" He replies gently, starting to stroke her hair.

"what are we going to do with... him." She pulled out of the hug slightly and looked up at him, he released her and his expression turned stony, almost malicious, as he turned to look at Neilson's limp form.

"Something bad, Ramona." He said grimly, smiling at the girl.

Nielson was tied up by the time Ramona got back from her flat after having a wash. She went and sat on the sofa, still trembling. She then realises the american has a black eye and a broken nose. Her eyes widen at the gagged mans state, and at Sherlock's hand wrapped around his pistol, pointing at him.

"Ramona?" He was sat in his leather chair, in a dominating position, his hands sprawled across the ends of the armrests. Ramona felt strangely more safe when he did this. She pulled a confused look at herself._ Why do I have these kind of feelings around him? It's not like I'm... Am I attracted to him? I can't be. Not me. Not him. Please tell me I don't fancy him. He'll find out straight away. I'm so done for if- _"Ramona?" She snapped out of her track of thought, making her jump. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I was daydreaming. What was it?"

Sherlock smirked. "About me, I'm guessing." He said playfully.

Ramona's eyes widened and she looked down, trying to avoid him seeing her blush. She slowly looked up, feeling the heat from her cheeks fade. "I- You wish." She smirked back. He smiled.

"I was wondering if you took the phone, I can't find where I put it."

She went red. Sherlock looked confused. "What is it?"

"Erm, I took it out of your dressing gown when they thought I was having a cry in your bedroom." She slowly reaches down the front of her top and pulls it from her bra, embarrassed.

Sherlock stayed silent and then cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. Well done." He looked away to the gagged American. She raised an eyebrow.

"Figured out the password for this thing yet?"

"No, haven't got a clue."

"I don't think we ever will."

He looked down at the floor. "No."

The air was thick with unsaid words as John bust in the door. Sherlock started dialing something and held his phone to his ear.

"What's going on?" He sees Neilson. "Jesus, whats happened?"

"Ramona was attacked by an american, I'm restoring order to the world." John immediately goes and sits next to her, analysing the state of her face. She frowns.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" He asks,concerned.

"Is it that bad?"

"I'm afraid so." Ramona cringes at this.

"People are going to think I got into a fight or something." She pouts. John chuckles and puts a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"Well I'm going to think you're tough. Seriously, how are you so calm?"

She shrugs. "Not that bad. I'm sure people have had worse." John and Sherlock frown.

"I think you should let me take a look at your cuts." She realises how much they're stinging, and that her eyes are watering with pain.

"They're fine, doctor Watson. But thanks." They both laugh and Sherlock scowls and looks away. John and Ramona share a confused look.

"Are you gonna tell me whats going on, Sherlock?" The detective turns round to answer, but before he can, he's interrupted by Ramona.

She shoots up off the couch and winces for a second at the pain, and decides to go a lot slower. "Shit!"

"What is it?" Asks John.

"Mrs Hudson! She can't know about this!"

"What?"

"If i hadn't done the cleaning for her, it would of been her in this situation." Horror filled her face. "She'll blame herself. I need to put away the cleaning things." She tried to run but the pain in her stomach was unbearable, she caught herself on the doorway, breathing deeply. John quickly went to help her get down the stairs. Ramona picked the pink bucket up and took it into Mrs Hudson's flat. Seconds later a body came flying from above. Ramona jumped back at the sudden noise, shared a look with John, and started in hysterics with him.

"How passive aggressive." She smiled at him.

He chuckled. "Hey, have you noticed Sherlock whenever we're laughing together?"

"I- Now that you say that, yeah, I have."

"Do you think, that maybe, he's... You know... Jealous?"

Ramona pulls a confused look. "Of me or you?" She smirks.

"I'm serious. I've seen the way he looks at you."

"What?"

"Well-" He's interrupted by Mrs Hudson coming in through the door.

"What are you two doing here?"

"John was just helping me-"

"Oh dear, whats happened to you?" She inspects the girls face.

"I had a fight with a robber." She shared a look with John.

"What?!"

"Sherlock and John got broken into. They didn't count on me being there." She smiled sweetly, although this was furthest from the truth. "You should see him."

"Ramona Doherty! They could have been armed!"

"He was." She smirked. Mrs Hudson looked suddenly come into earshot, slowly growing in volume.

Sherlock, John and Ramona sit in 221B. She hadn't felt like going out with Ellie and Amber, especially with the state of her face. John fixes himself a drink and Ramona doesn't blame her. She spots a small, silver wrapped box but says nothing, and realises that Sherlock must of opened her present, as it no longer under the tree. She frowns at his lack of... well, anything.

"I still can't believe you aren't in shock."

"It's not that shocking. We're in the possession of some very sensitive material, its obviously going to be dangerous." She looks down at the fireplace. Sherlock picks his violin and tunes it.

"I need to tell you both. Irene's alive."

Their heads both snap up, and then look at each other in unison. Ramona mostly feels relief for Sherlock, but for some reason, dread lingers in her stomach.

"Oh my god." She remarks. He looks back down at his violin, trying to remain disinterested.

"It doesn't really matter, we wont be seeing her again." Sherlock puts down his violin. Johns eyes widen.

"I've forgotten my phone at Mrs Hudson's. Won't be long." He leaves the flat.

Ramona walks over the the window next to Sherlock, watch the snow fall serenely, creating a white city. She had to admit it was beautiful. _Almost as beautiful as Sherl- Shut up! _She realises hes watching her, and looks up to meet his gaze. The detective picks up the silver wrapped box and hands it to her, confusing her.

"It's for you."

She smiles at it and looks up again. "Please don't tell me there's one of your ears in here." He chuckles.

"Unfortunately, no. I thought I would get something of more use to you."

She unwraps it carefully, to reveal a black box. What was she expecting? She lifted up the lid and in it was a big magnifying glass, beautiful in its own right. She beamed up at him.

His eyes widen at her expression, as he was adorably flustered by her happiness at his gift. "seeing as your definitely cut out for the job of a detective, I thought maybe, this would suit."

"Thank you." He looks away, as Big Ben starts to chime. She studies his profile, his blue eyes, his nose, his black hair, and realised how gorgeous he was in the light of the streetlamp outside. She felt a twisting feeling in her chest. They look out of the window together, and Ramona thinks she can feel the magnetism from Sherlock's hands to hers, so she glues it to her side.

He turns back to her, his look intense and his guard down. "Happy new year, Ramona."

Before she knows whats happening, he has a hand on her waist, and one on the side of her face, and they're both leaning in. Time seems to slow to a halt around the pair as eyes are closed,and she realises this is what she's been wanting since she got here. She feels their pulses start to race each other and just as they're an inch apart, John bursts into the room. They both come back to their senses and Sherlock takes quick steps away from her, his eyes wide, shocked at himself. Ramona looks out of the window, embarrassed. _Did I almost kiss Sherlock Holmes? Was he going to kiss me? Sherlock? I fancy him, maybe a bit too much. This is going to get weird. _

_"_Sorry I took so long, I-" John clocks the atmosphere in the room. "Did I miss something?"

* * *

**I Feel a bit evil for interrupting that :)**

**This was very cute, I love writing cute Sherlock, sorry if it was a bit ooc but he has a soft spot for her aw**

**Thanks for reading, please review!**


	12. Joining The Dots

**Joining The Dots**

I own nothing apart from the OC

* * *

Getting up this morning was easier then most for Ramona, because today was the day Hannah came back from Switzerland. Admittedly she had spent most of the night thinking through the days confusing events, and the days confusing man. The door opened at 9:02 am, revealing a laughing Hannah and a smiling Harry. Ramona gave him her best glare and looked away before he could see her trying to stab him with her sharp eyes. Hannah runs to Ramona to give her a bear hug.

"I missed you!" She squeals at her crushed friend, who laughs. Hannah pulls back to study the girl. "Whats wrong with your face?" Hannah pulls a look of shock-horror.

Ramona looks deflated at this. "It's lovely to see you too ." Hannah smiles at this. "Did you have a nice time?" Ramona asks, wanting to change the subject.

"Oh, yes, Switzerland was just beautiful. We had a great time, thanks." Harry nodded and gives Hannah a quick peck on the lips. Ramona feels herself getting agitated and looks away.

Harry goes and sits on the couch, not greeting Ramona. She didn't know how to feel about this. "God, I'm starving. Hannah, babe, you got anything you could make me in the kitchen?" Ramona balled her fists until her knuckles were white, hating that he was acting so nonchalantly. Forgivingly, they were doing long distance, since Harry was still in Leeds. Hannah nods and goes to the kitchen, making Ramona's stomach feel like a sheet of paper getting screwed up, about to be thrown into the bin.

"So, Harry, how long are you planning to stay in London?"

"Well actually, I was going to stay here for two weeks until schools back on." He doesn't look at her and changes the channels on the telly. Ramona's eyes widen and she feels herself stumbling back in horror, eyes fixed onto the back of his head, onto light brown hair. Hannah watches, amused.

"I was going to tell you, but I knew you'd react like, well, this."

She stared at her frizzy haired friend in pure terror. "I can't. He's so..." She puts up her hands in front of her and tenses them, shaking them about, eventually moving to a throttling position.

Hannah laughs. "Don't worry, you'll grow to like him." Harry turns around, grinning stupidly.

"Yeah, I'm cute!" He says jokingly.

"You bet you are." Hannah smiles at him. Ramona makes a gagging gesture silently. _This is going to be my definition of hell, two weeks with this absolute mongrel and this cutesy stuff. "_So, hows it going with Toby?"

"Hm? Oh, alright. I think he might be a bit too keen though." She wasn't wrong. He'd texted her twice this morning already.

"I just think that's cute."

"You think a lot of things are cute." She frowned miserably at the back of Harry's head as she went to sit in her armchair.

"Hey, remember, I passed your stupid boyfriend test thing."

"That means that your suitable. Not that I like you. And it wasn't stupid."

Harry pulled a face at her, She pulled a bigger one. _Two weeks Ramona, two weeks. Do it for Hannah._

"How was Christmas, then?" Ramona decided it was better to lie then to upset her.

"It was good, surprisingly." She smiles at her friend, and then to Harry. "You haven't met out neighbors yet, have you?"

"No, are they nice?"

"Oh, lovely." She says almost sarcastically. Hannah gave her a look as if she was an annoying child. In her eyes right now she probably was. Ramona ignored it and reached to the fruit basket onto the coffee table to retrieve a green apple. Crime watch appears on the television as Ramona lies sideways on the chair with her legs over the armchair pointing to the telly. She started to think about Irene Adler, and the phone, and Sherlock. And what Sherlock thought about Irene, and her. Ramona hated how Sherlock was at the end of every thought, everything everyone says, what his reaction would be to everything that happened to her...

The door suddenly flies open, and everyone whips their head round, all to see Sherlock. Ramona feels her stomach swirling. "Nice of you to knock." She takes another crunch of her apple. He smiles at her seemingly disinterested form.

"Sorry, who's this?" Asks Harry.

"A neighbor. Sherlock Holmes." Suddenly Sherlock appears on the screen.

"And you're Hannah's boyfriend, recently come back from Switzerland with her, doing long distance, actually doing okay, staying here for... Two weeks?" Ramona nods as Sherlock makes a face sympathetically. Harry widens his eyes as Sherlock comes into view on the screen.

"Wondering how he can be here and in the magical box at the same time?" Ramona says, causing Sherlock to laugh. She turns to him."What is it?"

"I'm going to St. Bart's to work out this phone. Fancy it?" Ramona takes a quick look at the situation. She really didn't feel like being a third wheel for the rest of the day.

Ramona shrugs."Alright." She pulls on a winter coat, throws her apple into the bin without looking, and waltzes out of the flat.

"Thanks for that." She says to the detective. He raises a brow. "For saving me. I- I mean, just then, I didn't fancy having to deal with a couple." She says the last word as if a swear word. "So, what are we doing with the phone?"

"X-raying, mainly."

St. Barts doesn't look as gloomy as Christmas in the daylight, Ramona decided. They arrived in outside what looked like a lab.

Sherlock knocks on the locked lab door. "Hello?" A small voice can be heard through the door.

"Hello, Molly." Sherlock somehow managed to sound flirty greeting someone.

"O-Oh, it's you." She sounded very flustered. Ramona didn't understand how she could be so easily manipulated. "You know, I really shouldn't keep letting you in like this."

"Oh come now Molly." He looks through the small window in the door. "Is that a new haircut?" The woman nods meekly. "You suit it." Ramona hears a short sigh and the door opens. Sherlock's back to his normal ignorant self. She gives Molly a sympathetic smile.

Sherlock heads straight to a machine that looks like an X-ray. They both study the screen. Ramona leans in slightly. She sighs exasperatedly, seconds later followed by Sherlock. _Explosive._

"Is that a phone?"

"Yep." Ramona says.

"And you two are... X-raying it?"

"Yes, we are."

"A woman's." Sherlock answers.

"Your girlfriends?" Ramona could see the jealously plastered all over the woman's face. Sherlock turns to Molly and pulls a disbelieving face.

She laughs nervously. "Well, we all do silly things, don't we?" Ramona's eyes practically shoot out of her head. Of course. The way she was looking at Sherlock, she didn't look like one for sentiment, but it made perfect sense. she loved to play games.

"Of course!" Ramona almost shouts. Sherlock raises an eyebrow and then cottons on to her.

"Yes, they do, don't they? Very silly." He gets to his feet and takes the camera phone out of the x-ray machine. "She sent this to my address. Loves to play games."

"She does?" Ramona cringes at Molly's dire situation. It was like Sherlock literally used her as a doormat. Used her to get in to somewhere, and then forgot about her until he had to come back in. Ramona watches his long fingers type in exactly what she was thinking. 221B. The phone beeps and comes up with a warning message. They both sigh in unison and share a disappointed look, sitting back down. Molly looks between the two and furrows her brow.

"B-by any chance, are you two related?" Ramona and Sherlock sigh again, Ramona lets her forehead fall onto the table in exasperation. She hears the detective chuckle and smiles to herself.

* * *

She found herself back in her flat with the two in love idiots. They were flirting as well. She picks up her guitar and starts strumming thoughtlessly. There could only be one password, and it had to do with Sherlock. She knew it.

"So what are you going to do for your birthday Ray?"

"Hm? Oh, my birthday?" Hannah nods incredulously. "What month is it?" Hannah's eyes widen. "I mean now."

"That's just as bad!" Hannah cried.

"September?"

"Yes..." Hannah shook her head at her friend.

"Ah, next month then. I'll probably just, stay in. Yeah, I don't really want anything big."

"Yes you do."

"Hannah-"

"If I arrange it, and everyone pays for themselves, will you partake in it?" Ramona sighs, defeated, and nods.

"Good."

* * *

Ramona woke up startled by Hannah pouncing onto her bed, causing her to fall out completely. "OI!"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR RAYYYYYYY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!" Her best friend beamed so hard she thought that any moment now the sun was going to emerge from within her teeth. Hannah quickly sprung off the bed and pulled each of the blinds up sharply, revealing a city just waking up.

"It's 8am, and a Saturday!"

"You have to enjoy your birthday. You're 23!"

Ramona moaned. "Filler year."

Hannah rolled her eyes, and grabbed her friends ankles. "Get up or I'll drag you."

"then you'll have to do just that." She folded her arms. And then the dragging began. Ramona started into hysterics as she tried to claw at the wood floor, Hannah later collapsed in guffaws, clutching her stomach. Harry came in, with bed hair and boxers on, yawning.

"What are you doing?"

Hannah pointed to Ramona, giggling on the floor, and burst out into laughter again. Harry rolled his eyes and went back to bed, leaving the two girls to their antics.

Ramona sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast, watching the news. "So, who've you invited to my meal, or whatever."

"we're going to a really nice restaurant, don't worry." That just made her worry even more. "I've invited Amber, Ellie, Toby, me and Harry, Sherlock and John."

"Wha- why did you invite Sherlock?"

"He's a close friend isn't he?"

"Well, no. I mean, I- I don't really know. But I'm betting you anything he doesn't turn up." She said, trying to hide disappointment in her voice. _I mean, Sherlock? At a restaurant? Its not like he'd ever have to change, He's always in that suit, and a tight shirt- _

"Well then he's missing out. Toby said he couldn't wait. You two are so meant to be together." Ramona raised an eyebrow at her oblivious friend. "I mean, how cute are you two? And he's rich, and you'd have really pretty babies and-"

"Hannah!"

"What?" Ramona shook her head and looked into her bowl of cereal, mortified. Hannah turns back to the hob, and giggles as Harry hugs her from behind and murmurs something into her ear. The girl rolls her eyes and stares at the television screen.

Ramona anxiously pulls on a floral dress and stares at herself in a full length mirror. Hannah had bought it for her, and she did say it looked amazing on her. But she was her friend, and that's what friends are supposed to do. It was very booby. there was a lot of that on display. Not too much, but still. She stares at herself, until Hannah knocks and takes a long look at her.

"You look stunning!" Ramona sighs and smiles at her friend. "You ready?" She nods hesitantly.

The Italian restaurant was beautiful and admittedly, she liked that Hannah had taken her. Ellie, Amber, and Toby were already there. Harry had his arm wrapped around Hannah's waist protectively, which Ramona liked. Maybe she was warming up to him. A little.

"Hey!" "Hiya!"

"Hi guys!" Amber and Ellie took turns to hug Ramona. She turned to Toby.

"You look great!" He kissed her on the cheek going in for a hug, taking her by surprise. She laughed nervously. "Thanks Toby."

She pulled out of the hug, smiling at the boy. Sherlock and John turned around the corner, The detectives smirk falling as he saw the two embracing. Ramona turned around, spotting them. "John! Sherlock!"

John gave her a friendly hug, and Sherlock looked away. Ramona shared a look with John. She turned to Sherlock. "Hello." She smiled, almost nervously. He took a quick look at her, and pulled her into a bit-too-tight-to-be-friendly hug. He glared at Toby over Ramona's shoulder, who was watching the two anxiously as everyone else conversed between themselves.

They pulled out of the hug. "Hello, Ramona." He gave a smile that made Ramona's knees feel weak.

Ramona sat at the round table, all of the attention leading her to feel important. Sherlock had basically pushed Toby out of the way to sit on her left side, Hannah on her right. Next to Hannah was Harry, next to him was Amber, Then Ellie. Opposite the birthday girl was Toby, and next to him, John.

The night was filled with a lot of laughter, and very embarrassing stories about Ramona. She could definitely feel her cheeks heat as she moaned, putting her face to her hands, upon hearing Hannah start the story about where she went into th school cafeteria, her jumper latched to a cleaning up trolley, and it then fell, spilling food and drinks all over her, all the time whist waving to her crush. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of her life. Everyone started laughing and Ramona started laughing too. She then decided to start telling a story about Hannah.

"Right so, no guys, listen listen." They were admittedly a little drunk. "Right, so, when Hannah first saw Harry, she was all like, 'I'm going to go talk to him, he's gorgeous.'" She did a very animated Hannah impressions. there were a few giggles. "She struts over, trying to play it cool or sommet, and Harry, he's sat at his desk, and she's walking over, and she trips over her own foot, face-plants onto the edge of the desk, and gets a massive nosebleed all over him." There are massive guffaws of laughter as Harry laughs and hugs Hannah. "And hes bloody mortified, like, like this!" She pulls a mortified look, like she'd just seen Satan. everyone breaks into hysterics.

She takes a forkful of her pasta. Sherlock watches her, and Ramona freezes mid chew, startled by his predatory gaze. Everyone else chatters away. She swallows. "What?"

"Nothing."

"its obviously not nothing."

"Am I not allowed to look at you?"

"Not like that!" She hisses.

He smiles. "Like what?"

"Like, like you're going to eat me or something!" He laughs. "So, got any further on the phone?"

"No such luck."

"I'm surprised she hasn't tried to contact you. The way she was looking at you-" She gasps, and the whole table stops to look at her. She smiles apologetically, and they turn back to their conversations. "I know it. The password. I know it. Of course. How could it have been anything else? Never thought she would be the type though. It's something you do in year seven."

"What is it?"

"Do you have it?"

"No, its at Baker Street."

She nods thoughtfully. "We'll do it when we get home."

Toby gets up and walks over to Ramona. "Fancy a quick cig?" She nods.

"We'll be two minutes." She says. Sherlock gets up.

"I'll come too."

John looks up at him, as confused as Ramona. "You don't smoke. you're quitting, Sherlock."

"No, I'm a social smoker John." He says it as if an obvious fact of life.

"Since when have you been a social anything?"

"I-" He practically glares at John. "You're right. I just wanted one." Sherlock sits down. "Thank you, John." He hisses through gritted teeth.

* * *

Ramona blows out smoke gently.

"So, are you and that Sherlock, are you..."

She laughs. "No, no. Definitely not."

Toby smiles. "Good."

Ramona's eyes widen at the sort-of-declaration of him wanting to go out with her. She laughs nervously. "What am I supposed to say to that?"

"You say; It's funny you should say that because I'd be glad if I thought you were going out with someone that wasn't me and you actually weren't."

She raises her eyebrows and laughs at his audacity. "Alright, and what do you say after that?"

He drops his cigarette and steps on it, almost passive aggressively. "I say this." He paces over to her and pins her to the wall with his hips, before pressing his lips onto hers. She reels and kisses him back, dropping her cigarette as he puts his hands on her waist. He hesitantly pulls back and smiles. "I've been wanting to do that for a while now." She smiles, and for some reason, agrees.

They walk back into the restaurant, and the first thing she saw was Sherlock sulking. He looks up at the two suspiciously, and then closes his eyes, sighs, and glares at his empty plate. She smiles at Toby as they sit down. Everyone talked rather loudly, as Ramona and Sherlock sat in silence. She was sure that he knew what had just happened, and she didn't know what to say.

"W- whats wrong?" He didn't look up from what must have been to interesting on his plate.

"Nothing." He answers shortly.

"You sure?"

"I think I am aware of my own emotions, Ramona." He spits. She raises her eyebrows, holding her hands up.

"Alright, alright." There was a pause.

"So, what happened outside?" Her eyes widened.

"We just smoked and went back inside." He rolled his eyes and his eyes darted to meet hers.

"The time it takes you to have a cigarette is around three minutes twenty seconds, that was six minutes fourty two seconds. Also, you two were way too excited to just have smoked."

She sighed. "Do you never take a break?"

"Can't." He folded his arms and started to join in on a conversation between Harry and John.

_Why do I feel like I've hurt him somehow? He's not... He wouldn't be- Sherlock Holmes is never Jealous. He just doesn't approve of Toby. But who would he approve of?_

* * *

**Toby y u do dis -.- **

**there was a lot of time difference in this, I hope its okay**

**thank you sosososo much for reading and reviewing, it means the world :)**


	13. She's Thunderstorms

**She's thunderstorms**

I don't own Sherlock unfortunately :(

* * *

Ramona walked down the aisle of cereals, trying to pick the best one. To her close friends, it was a well known fact she was a breakfast fanatic, and was one of the only reasons she got up in the morning. She switched the song playing through her earphones, and Oasis came on. She happily hummed along to the song that she'd hear about a million times, as she picked up a box of special k. The girl admittedly loved being in her own company, as she was so much more fun to be with than practically anyone. '_If you're lonely when you're alone you're in bad company' Some quote from somewhere. _She smiled at a baby sat in a trolley, and as the mother turned around, she started making funny faces at the baby, crossing her eyes and giving herself an embarrassing double chin. She started to giggle with the baby and then turned back around to pick some porridge for Hannah, which she was personally disgusted at. She smiled to herself and started humming again quietly, until she felt a tap on her shoulder. Ramona turned around to see Sherlock, holding back a chuckle. She felt her cheeks light on fire and she looked around for John, who didn't seem to be there.

"H- how long have you been standing there?" She asks the amused detective timidly.

"Long enough to see how many chins you really have." He remarked, smiling.

She gaped at herself and spun around quickly to look at the cereal fast enough for him to not see her so embarrassed. "Don't you have enough cereal?" He raised an eyebrow. She decided to change the subject.

"I'll buy as much cereal as I want, thanks." She turned back around to meet his eyes. "Now, what were you so miffed about last night?"

"What?"

"Why were you so... short with me?"

"You were getting boring, like people always do. Try not to take it personally." He looked away to look around, disinterested.

The girl felt her face begin to fall. She rolled her eyes. "You're getting annoying, like you always do. Try not to take it personally." Admittedly, Sherlock's words had hurt, and he was never annoying, just harsh.

"You're lying." He said, as if as obvious as gravity.

"I-" She saw John and rushed to him. "Please John, try and keep your partner under control. He's being very annoying."

John gave both of them a disapproving look. "First of all, Sherlock, try to not upset the neighbors. Secondly, I am not gay!"

Ramona started giggling, and gave him a look that said 'you don't have to lie to me' and held up her hands as if in surrender. "Whatever you say, John." She turns to Sherlock. "Now what are you doing shopping? I thought you hated this sort of stuff."

He shrugs. "I got bored. No cases." He looks down at both of the peoples baskets. "You're both done now anyway, lets go."

John invited her in for a cup of tea, and Ramona happily agreed. As they both walked in at the same time, Ramona sniffed the air discreetly and caught a woman's scent, coming from... _Sherlock's bedroom? It smells like, like... Where have I smelled that before? _She thinks back, and drops her bags as she runs to Sherlock's bedroom. Sherlock sprints behind her. "A bit too keen aren't you?" John mutters under his breath as he walks behind them to see what all the fuss was about.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"We have a client." Sherlock said, smiling at the sleeping form of Irene Adler in his bed. Ramona hated that he liked that sight, and really wished she wasn't there.

* * *

The girl sits in Sherlock's chair, staring at the woman in John's, feeling dwarfed in just about every aspect. She had just taken a shower, her hair was damp for gods sake, and she still felt like susan boyle being compared to Beyonce. It wasn't fair. She had such perfect skin and nose and lips and everything, even her body. Ramona intensely frowned out of the window as she sits on the couch feeling disdain at herself. Sherlock kept looking between them, and she couldn't help thinking he felt the same way. Right now she would happily jump out of the window she was pouting out of. She crosses her legs and starts to talk.

"So, who's after you."

"People that want to kill me."

"And who's that?"

"Killers." Irene smirked as Ramona tensed, praying she wouldn't roll her eyes.

"It would hep if you could be a tiny bit more specific."

Sherlock spoke up."So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them."

"It worked for a while." Irene shrugged.

"Except you let John know that you were alive, and therefore Ramona and me." Ramona was confused as to why he said her name first.

" I knew you'd keep my secret."

"You couldn't." He said.

"But you did, didn't you? Where's my camera phone?"

"It's not here. We're not stupid." Answered John.

"Then what have you done with it? If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you."

"If they've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago." Ramona sighed at the fact they hadn't bothered to tell her. Or was he lying?

"I need it." She said shortly.

"Well, we can't just go and get it, can we?" Added John. He looks round to Sherlock, like he'd figured out the meaning of life.

"Molly Hooper. She could collect it, take it to Bart's; then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the café, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back."

Sherlock smiles. "Very good, John. Excellent plan, with intelligent precautions."

John looks as proud as a toddler that just learnt to read. "Thank you."He picks up his phone." So, why don't" Sherlock takes the camera phone out from his jacket pocket and holds it up. "Oh, for ..." Sherlock inspects the phone as Irene stands up.

"So what do you keep on here – in general, I mean?" Ramona inspects the phone from her seat. Instantly she knows its a fake._ It'd be heavier and his hands would be in a different position, good thinking, but there's no way she'll fall for that. _

"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful."

"What, for blackmail?" John questions.

"For protection. I make my way in the world; I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be."

"So how do you acquire this information?" Asks Ramona, interested.

"I misbehave." She now fights the urge to roll her eyes at the cheesy line.

"But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?"

"Yes, but I don't understand it." Irene admits.

"I assumed. Show me." Sherlock doesn't ask, he tells. Irene holds out her hand for the phone. Sherlock holds it up out of her reach.

"The pass-code." She continues to hold her hand out, and eventually Sherlock sits forward and hands her the phone. Activating it and holding it so he can't see the screen or the keypad, she types in four characters. The phone beeps a warning.

"It's not working." Irene pulls a fake frown. Ramona smiles, liking that there are two women in the world so far who can outsmart Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock takes the phone from her. "No, because it's a duplicate that I had made, into which you've just entered the numbers one oh five eight." He walks over to Ramona.

"If you'd like to look under the pillow you're sitting on." He tells Ramona.

She stands up and takes the phone, eyes once again having to fight not to roll.

"Look, she didn't buy that for a second. She put in a fake code, obviously."

Sherlock frowned in confusion, that turned to indifference. "No, she did. Give it here and I'll prove you wrong."

"She didn't. The weight from the," She turns to Irene. "Explosives, was it?" Irene frowns a fake frown. "Well, its her camera phone. And it doesn't matter, because I've worked out the pass-code."

Sherlock sighs as if dealing with a toddler. "No, you haven't. I haven't, so there's no way you have." He snatches it from her. Ramona folds her arms, and waits for the warning beep, that comes after Sherlock types in the wrong password. He stares in complete disbelief.

"I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand. As your protege said." She smiled.

He turns to Irene who walks closer, smiling at him."Oh, you're rather good."

"You're not so bad." She smiles seductively. She holds her hand out again and takes the phone from him. The pairs eyes become locked in what can only be described as intense eye-sex. Ramona feels her stomach curl around her and has several different visions that all include Irene dying in a very painful situation. John and Ramona share a frowning look at the pair.

"Hamish or Coralie." Ramona blurts out, grinning at John. the pair break out of their apparent eye foreplay to frown at her.

"Ramona Coralie Doherty and John Hamish Watson – just if you were looking for baby names." Sherlock gives her a very deep-set frown.

"There was a man – an MOD official. I knew what he liked." Ramona hoped she'd never know what Sherlock liked. _They aren't right together. He deserves someone... On his level. Oh my god, did I just quote Sherlock? I need to see a therapist... _Irene walks a short distance and types in a pass-code, the real pass-code, Ramona notes. "One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it." She hands the phone to Sherlock. Ramona wonders if she might be invisible. "He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen – can you read it?"

Sherlock sits down on the other side of the table to John and narrows his eyes at the photograph. All Ramona sees is the numbers:

4C12C45F13E13G60A60B61F34G34J60D12H33K34K

She frowns as she looks over the detectives shoulders. "A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it – though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out."

Sherlock leans forward, concentrating on the screen.

"What can you do, Mr Holmes? She leans over his other shoulder, and Ramona suppressed the need to glare.

"Go on. Impress a girl." Ramona feels a blur of numbers race through her as Irene goes to kiss his cheek. Her eyes grow to the size of moons as she realises what it is. Before Irene can get to the working detective, she snatches the phone.

"DON'T HAVE TO!" Before Irene can reach Sherlock, she snaps up to frown at the girl along with Sherlock and John. She smiles apologetically, as words fly out of her mouth as fast a bullets. "Sorry about that, tend to shout when i get" Her eyes dart to Sherlock. "Excited." His jaw drops, and then quickly curiousity pulls it back up. "I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds." Sherlock is sat, speechless, in his chair. "Sorry, did I steal your thunder? The only thing is-"

"But, how could you possibly-"

" Oh, It's not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look." She shows the screen to John. "There's no letter 'I' because it can be mistaken for a '1'; no letters past 'K' – the width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place – families and couples sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter 'K' or rows past fifty-five, which is why there's always an upstairs. There's a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there's the style of the flight number – zero zero seven – that eliminates a few more; and assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport."

Irene gazes at her with admiration. "I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice." She stares up at the woman, still in thought.

"Maybe not, Irene." Her face falls as she walks away.

"Y-you were right."

"Hm?"

"You were right. Flight double oh seven."

Ramona's head snaps to Sherlock's, as he did the same. "Where have I heard that before?" Sherlock starts to pace, whilst Ramona clicks her fingers.

"JESUS!" Everyone in the room jumps.

"Could you stop doing that, please?" Asks John politely.

"Do you want me to stop saving England?" She asks.

"Have you done it before?" John frowns.

"I'm assuming I'll do it again." Ramona shrugs.

Sherlock paces to Ramona and puts his hands on her shoulders. "Bond air."

She smiles. "Bond air is go."

* * *

Ramona lies on the floor next to the fire, eyes closed, deadly still, trying to think, whilst Sherlock watches her every move intently. Irene sits, curled, in Johns chair, watching him. "Coventry." Sherlock blurts out. Before Ramona can respond, Irene gets there.

"I've never been. Is it nice?"

"Wheres John?"

"He left hours ago. He said you do that." She smiles at him.

"It's a story, probably not true. In the Second World War, the Allies knew that Coventry was going to get bombed because they'd broken the German code but they didn't want the Germans to know that they'd broken the code, so they let it happen anyway."

Irene basically ignores him. "Have you ever had anyone?" Ramona realises she thinks she's asleep, and fights a smirk playing on her lips.

Sherlock frowns at her blankly. "Sorry?"

"When I say had, I'm being indelicate."

"I don't understand."

"Well, I'll be delicate then." Irene gets up from her chair, walks over to Sherlock and kneels in front of him, putting her left hand on top of his right hand and curling her fingers around it.

"Let's have dinner." She says.

"Why?" Ramona wonders if he really is from another planet, and if he thinks she's asleep.

"Might be hungry."

"I'm not."

"Good." Sherlock hesitantly sits forward a little and slowly turns his right hand over, curling his own fingers around her wrist.

"Why would I want to have dinner if I wasn't hungry?" Slowly Irene begins to lean forward, her gaze fixed on his lips. Ramona does not like where this is going. He puts his fingers on the underside of her wrist and Ramona smirks, realising what he's doing.

"Oh, Mr Holmes..." Ramona decides she's had enough. She springs to life, on her feet like a cat.

"First off, he's taking your pulse. He knows you fancy him. Secondly, I know the password, so don't push your luck." Sherlock looks at her in confusion. "Wait, no, no, I didn't mean it like that, I- forget that I said that. What I'm saying, is that any moment now, they're going to be two geniuses that know the pass-code to you're lifeline, or something. Also, Coventry, you're not right. They're doing the exact opposite. Hopefully. Just a theory really."

"What do you mean?"

Ramona opens her mouth to speak, but is interrupted by Mrs Hudson. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock turns to Ramona to tell her what he has deduced. "There's going to be a bomb on a passenger jet. The British and American governments know about it but rather than expose the source of that information they're going to let it happen. The plane will blow up. Coventry all over again. The wheel turns. Nothing is ever new."

"Completely wrong."

"What?!" Ramona notices the driver grin for a second and then snap back to emotionless.

"Come on, it's been staring you in the face."

"Just tell me?" There was a pause. "Please?"

"That would take the fun out of things though, wouldn't it?" She smiled as he scowled.

They are taken to Heathrow, a jumbo jet parked outside, . As they go to board the airplane stairs, she recognises her American attacker. Sherlock smiles smugly, putting on a deliberately fake American accent. "Well, you're lookin' all better. How ya feelin'?" He walks halfway up the stairs, followed loosely by Ramona.

"Like putting a bullet in your little friends brain, and making you watch... Sir." He smirked at her and glared at him. Sherlock started toward him with fury, and as he passed Ramona, she went to grab his arm, but accident got his gloved hand. He froze and turned to look at her questioningly. She shook her head at him, and remembered to let go awkwardly. He clenched his jaw and followed her.

Now inside, he pulls back the curtain obscuring the passenger seating and walks into the aisle. The lighting is very low and it's hard to see. There are people sitting in almost all the seats but none of them is moving or speaking or showing any signs of life at all. Ramona realises she was right and decides to stop breathing through her nose. Frowning, he walks forward and looks more closely at the nearest passengers. An overhead light shows more clearly the faces of two men sitting beside each other and Sherlock now realises the truth: they are dead. Although they're not yet showing any signs of decomposition, their skin is very grey and they've clearly been dead for some time. He turns and looks to the passengers on the other side of the aisle, turning on another overhead light to get a better view. The man and woman sitting there are also long dead. He straightens up, realising that everyone on board the plane must be in the same condition. Sherlock gives Ramona a 'really' look, and she just nods.

"The Coventry conundrum." She and Sherlock turns to see Mycroft pushing back the curtain and stepping through into the cabin. He talks softly. "What do you think of my solution?" Ramona thinks that Sherlock might still taking it all in.

She speaks up "The flight of the dead."

"The plane blows up mid-air. Mission accomplished for the terrorists. Hundreds of casualties, but nobody dies."

"Neat, don't you think?" Sherlock smiles sarcastically at his brother.

" You've been stumbling round the fringes of this one for ages – or were you too bored to notice the pattern? We ran a similar project with the Germans a while back, though I believe one of our passengers didn't make the flight."

"But that's the deceased for you – late, in every sense of the word." Ramona tries not to laugh at this. He should seriously consider pursuing a career in comedy.

"How's the plane going to fly?" He answers himself immediately. "Of course: unmanned aircraft. Hardly new."

"It doesn't fly. It will never fly. This entire project is cancelled. The terrorist cells have been informed that we know about the bomb. We can't fool them now. We've lost everything. One fragment of one email, and months and years of planning finished."

"Your MOD man." Sherlock says.

"That's all it takes: one lonely naïve man desperate to show off, and a woman clever enough to make him feel special."

Sherlock quirks an eyebrow. "Hmm. You should screen your defence people more carefully."

"I'm not talking about the MOD man, Sherlock; I'm talking about you." Shouts Mycroft, suddenly furious. He slams the tip of his umbrella on the floor. Sherlock frowns, genuinely confused. "The damsel in distress." He smiles ironically. "In the end, are you really so obvious? Because this was textbook: the promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption; then give him a puzzle ... "His voice drops to a whisper while he twirls the end of his umbrella in the air." ... and watch him dance."

"Don't be absurd."

"Absurd? How quickly did you decipher that email for her? Was it the full minute, or were you really eager to impress?"

"Actually, it was the girl." Irene Adler comes out of the darkness from behind Sherlock.

"Mr Holmes, I think we need to talk." She struts down the airplane as if a runway.

"So do I. There are a number of aspects I'm still not quite clear on."

"Not you, Junior. You're done now." Ramona feels her blood boil at Sherlock's expression. She felt like making her one of the passengers on board. Irene continues down the aisle towards Mycroft. Sherlock turns and watches her go as she activates her phone and holds it up to show his brother. "There's more ... loads more. On this phone I've got secrets, pictures and scandals that could topple your whole world. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one way to stop me – unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother."

Mycroft looks down at his feet, unable to hold her gaze. His whole body language screaming defeated. Ramona's eyes light up so bright they could light the plane for a second. "Unfortunately for you, that isn't happening."

"Sorry?" Ramona snatches the phone once again from her long fingers and brings up the lock screen.

"I told you, I know the password."

Irene looks smug at this. "That's why I did this." She points to the screen. "You have one go." She smiles and turns to Mycroft. "Are you really willing to bet possible lives of British citizens on a cocky girl?"

"The explosive won't stop me."

"But it might stop you from wearing rings ever again." She smiles and pulls a sarcastic pout. Sherlock grabs the phone faster then anything Ramona thinks she's ever seen.

"I'll type it in." Everyone frowns in confusion. "I- I mean, this is my fault. If it's dangerous, it's my danger."

"Actually no, it's my fault." More confusion in the cabin, whilst she puts out her hand for the phone. "I deciphered the code. This- this wouldn't be a waste without me getting involved. Let me make up for that."

Sherlock stares at her and blinks twice. "No."

She quickly pinches his inner arm until he drops the phone, letting her catch it two inches from the ground. Any panic Irene may have, she hides well. "Love is a strange thing, isn't it, Miss Adler?" Irene's jaw drops and her eyes begin to resemble little blue globes. "Sentiment as well- I personally never thought you had it in you. The Holmes brothers have it right when they say that these things are found in the losing side. This happens to be you today, Miss Adler." Tears slip down her cheek. "The truth is, you could have walked away successful today if you had put in a random code. Could have. But the thing is, you give yourself away. What you weren't counting on was me watching your pupils dilate, and him taking your pulse. I really hate to do this, we could have been friends." Ramona said, genuinely sad that the woman chose to use her power for evil. She slowly typed in the letters 'S H E R'. The second between her entering the 'R' and the camera phone put everyone's heart in their throat, but put Sherlock's in his mouth. Ramona handed the camera phone to Mycroft. "Here. Should be everything on there." She backed away until her back hit Sherlock, and as she went to walk forward, a leather clad hand grabbed her shoulder, so she stayed.

* * *

Ramona stood on the runway, the wind blowing her hair behind her, her hands in her coat pockets. As they approached the car, Mycroft stopped her. "I underestimated you, greatly."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You didn't, trust me."

"No, I did." He tapped the tip of his umbrella on the tarmac. "I thought you were fine as my brothers friend, but he already has those. Join my government. The pay is high, and as far as I can tell, it'll be an easy job for you to do."

"What... role would I play in your government?"

"A detective, but getting a different identity and location every time, and you pass all information you find on to me."

"So a spy."

"Spy is such an ugly word."

Admittedly, this appealed to Ramona greatly. It had always been a massive fanstasy of hers to become some sort of international super spy. She looked behind her to the car, and more importantly, to Sherlock. He was watching them. The six foot detective's hair fell perfectly after the slight wind stopped, the shadows playing on his face. She knew then. She knew she couldn't leave him. Or her life here. But more importantly, him. She didn't know how he coped living on his own, and dreaded to think what would happen once John moved out and Mrs Hudson... She couldn't. Ramona turned back around to the detective brother. "Thanks, but no thanks." She smiled.

"Tell my brother that you're smarter than him, should he ever say otherwise. I will stand behind that."

She laughs. "Until next time, Mycroft."

* * *

She makes her way to the car, where Sherlock is waiting. "You took your time." He said shortly as they got in the car and began to drive off."What did he want?"

"Asking if I wanted a job."

He tensed beside her. "Did you take it?"

"Of course not." He let out a long breath he forgot he was holding, and realised it must of been very loud. She laughed like music. "I would of said not to hold your breath, but..." He poked her gently in the ribs, making her laugh and squirm as she poked him harder. He watched her laugh playfully, and realised he may of formed some sort of connection to this woman. A connection he couldn't bring himself to cut.

* * *

**ahhh this was so cute to write eeek**

**sorry if its getting too cutesy, just tell me in the reviews if you want it to be more gritty or something :)**

**I enjoyed writing this so much I wrote it in one sitting lol oops**

**thank you so much for reading and reviewing, it really makes my day :D**


	14. The Hellcat Spangled Shalala

**The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala**

I own nothing but the OC**  
**

* * *

"So why didn't you take it?!" Hannah asks, enthralled by Ramonas story.

"What?"

"The job, with that Miccleroy guy." Ramona throws back her head and guffaws, leaving a confused Hannah to sip some tea and settle back into the couch.

"It's Mycroft, Hannah." She shakes her head, slightly gigging. "Well, I suppose I kind of like my life at the moment. I don't want to upset things." Hannah nods slowly in thought. Ramona starts to walk around the apartment aimlessly.

"What are you wearing to this press thingy then?" Hannah loved asking questions.

"Just jeans probably." Ramona shrugs.

"I should hope not!" Hannah widens her eyes in feigned shock. They both laugh.

"Well, I personally don't want to go." Hannah frowned in confusion at the girl. "Well, you've seen the title the papers have been giving me." She peered at a paper on the table. The headline read '**Partners, in more than one way?' **She sighed and walked away to sit back in her armchair, taking the paper with her.

"Well, it does seem that way." Ramona gives her death glare. "I- I mean, the press can blow anything out of proportion, two people of the opposite gender sit decide to sit opposite instead of beside each other and they'll call it a 'lovers quarrel of the century', give it the front page and a pull out. It's nothing to worry about." Ramona read the first few lines.

**Sherlock Holmes, a.k.a the hat detective, has been seen working on cases with another addition to his posse. However, the relationship looks much more romantic than work-based, as the young girl- who looks anything short of gorgeous- (see page 12 for her look)...**

Ramona rolled her eyes into the back of her skull as she tried hard not to scream at the idiotic press. "This is the most sexist thing I've ever seen." Hannah frowned in confusion. She stands up and starts pacing in front of Hannah. "Oh come on! Me and Sherlock found the kidnapper together, I worked just as hard as him, to get the same result, so why am I described as part of his "posse", and why have they said anything about how i look? Or about my "look"?" She made speech marks with her fingers in the air "I'm not mentioned once for my skills, or how I'm equal to Sherlock! Is that all women are ever seen for? Their exterior?!" She shouts the last bit in her friends face. She instantly regrets that, and sighs, massaging her temples. "I'm sorry, I just... All the tabloids have really taken a toll on Toby and I."

Hannah shoots up from out of her seat. "Toby and you? Toby and you?!" She starts clapping with delight. "You're going out with him?"

Ramona frowns. "Well, yeah."

"This is wonderful news!"

"Chill out Hannah, I'm not getting married."

"You will be soon though!" Hannah enters a dreamy state. "Oh, imagine, A beautiful white dress, me as head bridesmaid, of course. The big diamond on your ha-"

"Shut up Hannah! Please, oh my god please shut up! Please!" Ramona cried at the deflated girl. "I'm not getting married for gods sake! And probably not to Toby! I'm twenty bloody three Hannah! Just because you and Harry are-"

"We're getting married." Hannah blurted out. Ramona felt as if she had been hit in the face by Mike Tyson.

"Y-you're, what?"

"We're going to get married."

Ramona stumbles to find a seat. "I- You can't! Not now! How are you going to get money? What are you going to do, have a baby? I thought you wanted to be a nurse!? What are you going to do? Put your dream on hold to get married? This isn't the 180-"

"Not right now you numb-skull." Relief poured into Ramona. "In two years. He's going to officially propose next year, when he moves to London, and then, we can get married, and I'll-"

"Please, don't."

"And I'll move out." Hannah almost whispered. Ramona sat in silence, staring at the turned off television for five seconds. She was shell shocked to say the least. She calculated it was around five minutes until John came to tell her he'd called a taxi to Scotland yard, so she decided to grab her coat and storm out, and into their flat, without saying word. Hannah watched her leave with sad eyes.

She watched the famous rotating Scotland yard sign outside, waiting for the boys to catch up. She feels Sherlock behind her. "Tell me again why I'm here?"

He shrugs. "They asked, and you're polite. Always a mistake, in my opinion."

She frowns. "Let's just get this over and done with. I swear if they ask any questions about me and you I'm gonna go mental."

She hears John laugh behind her as they set off again into the building.

Ramona stands in between John and Sherlock, trying to remain calm. There was around a 52% chance that she was going to fuck this up somehow. "Peter Ricoletti: number one on Interpol's Most Wanted list since 1982. But we got him; and there's two people we have to thank for giving us the decisive leads ... with all his customary diplomacy and tact!" Her and Sherlock smiles insincerely towards Greg while John leans closer to Sherlock and speaks quietly.

John leans in to speak to them quietly. "Sarcasm."

"Yes." answers Sherlock shortly. As the press applaud, Greg walks over to Sherlock and Ramona, handing them both wrapped gifts.

"We all chipped in." Although his smile is sincere for her, it is quite the opposite for Sherlock. He tears open the wrapping paper, and Ramona realises Sally and Anderson are grinning expectantly. He pulls out a deerstalker hat. Ramona holds in a laugh, making her body shake.

Sherlock trie to smile, which is probably the first for him in front of Sally and Anderson. "Oh!"

"Put the hat on!" "Put the hat on!" The reporters shout from the audience.

"Yeah, Sherlock, put it on!" Enthuses Lestrade sarcastically. Sherlock glares at the reporter which can only be described as a death stare.

"Just get it over with." Murmurs John. She was starting to think he was Sherlock's only hope of people not finding out what he was like. Glowering at him, Sherlock shoves the wrapping paper into his hands, then unhappily puts the hat on his head, the cameras instantly going mad. Ramona starts to laugh as applause reaches her ears. He glares at her jokingly at first, and then starts to chuckle with her, or at her.

As they were leaving the building, reporters started swarming them. "Could we have a few questions?" Ramona frowns in confusion, as she realises the question is directed at her.

"Depends what their about." She smiles.

"Is it true that you and Sherlock Holmes are together?" She looks incredulously.

"I'd like for it to be known, that in no way are we going out. Me and Sherlock are purely platonic, nothing more or less. You can all just get that out of your head right now."

"How were you introduced to Sherlock?"

She smiled. "Neighbors."

Suddenly she came under fire of a thousand more question. She laughed at the flashes of the cameras. This was definitely no what she expected when she moved down here. What a pleasant surprise.

She walked into the boys flat to the sounds of Sherlock ranting and stomping. "Boffin. Boffin Sherlock Holmes".

Ramona laughs as she sits down at the table, reading the daily star he had just thrown onto it.

"Everybody gets one."

"One what?"

"Tabloid nickname: 'SuBo'; 'Nasty Nick'. Shouldn't worry – We'll probably get them soon."

"I already do! 'girlfriend', by the look of it." She shook her head. "Bachelor John Watson." She laughed at what they were trying to imply.

"What?" She passes him the paper, tapping at the sentence. Sherlock goes over to the fireplace, picks up the deerstalker, holds it up and punches it angrily.

"Why is it always the hat photograph?"

"Bachelor John Watson?" He looked incredulously from the article to Ramona, making her smile.

"What sort of hat is it anyway?" He looks at it as if he was afraid any moment now it would eat him.

"Bachelor? What the hell are they implying? If you're his girlfriend and I'm a bachelor?"

"Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?"

Ramona glances up briefly. "It's a deerstalker." She looks down and then back up again, walking to stand opposite him.

"Frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Watson ..."

"You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do – throw it?" He asks Ramona.

"... confirmed bachelor John Watson!"

"Some sort of death frisbee?" He skims it through the air precisely, as Ramona only has to bend her wrist to catch it.

"I'd say, more of a Englishman's ninja star." She throws it with a flick of her wrist quickly to Sherlock. "Seriously though, we have to be more careful. It's too much."

Sherlock frowns. "What do you mean, more careful?"

"You're supposed to be a private detective, right? It won't stay like that for long."

John nods in agreement, as he holds his first finger and thumb in front of him an inch apart. "You're this close to being famous- both of you." He laughs. "Couple of the week, case-solving, crime-busting, London-living boffins." Ramona hung her mouth open, appalled. Sherlock watched her reaction closely.

"Also, the press always turn. Always." She looked deadly serious. "And they'll turn on you. Sooner or later. They always do, and when that happens..." Ramona had visions of Sherlock being upset, and wanted to make sure they never came true. She shuddered at the thought of him being desperately sad.

"Why do you care about what people say about me?"

"I- they're also going to be talking about me. I have approximately 60 years left, and I really don't want to spend them being overcome with rumours."Sherlock shrugged.

"I'm going out, anything you two want from the shops?" Sherlock shook his head with Ramona.

Ramona opened John's laptop. "Amber just texted me, telling me to google myself." Sherlock frowned in confusion. She quickly tapped in her name, and suddenly, articles, mainly involving Sherlock, came up on the screen. Her eyes grew to moons, then she groaned hopelessly, to which Sherlock stared at her with wide eyes, before clearing his throat.

"What?"

"They saw me and toby together." He frowned in confusion. "Kissing." He clenched his jaw.

"Why does that matter?" he asked from his chair.

"They think we're together. Oh Jesus he's gonna go absoloutely mad." Sherlock grinned smugly until Ramona shot him a warning look and he snapped out of it. Her phone blew up in her pocket. She counted five texts from Toby and three more from Amber. She texted Toby back that the press were obviously lying, and she was with him. The texts from Amber said something about searching 'sherona' on google. She frowned in confusion, as she typed in 'sherona'. Her jaw dropped and she slowly leaned back from the laptop screen.

"Er, Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what a ship is?"

He looked at her incredulously. " A large boat for transporting people or goods by sea. Why?"

"People, people are doing that with us."

"What are you on exactly, Ramona?" He paces over to the table where she's sat, and looks over her shoulder to the laptop screen. She almost heard his jaw drop.

"W- whats, Sherona?"

"When people want two well known people together, they sometimes... Write fake stories about them or... Draw pictures of them." He scrolls down to read one of the stories. She reads ahead and puts a hand over the screen. "Woaah, that is definitely not PG 13." She frowns. "I'm not that slutty!" She said, as she read the very innapropriate story. Sherlock laughed sharply. Ramona snapped round. "Don't laugh, apparently there's a smaller ship of... Johnlock!" Ramona starts to laugh hard, as she types it in, and results come up. There are tears in her eyes as she begins to go into such laughter that she thought she was going to die from suffocation. Sherlock looked at her in such a way, she thought she would either get throttled or snogged. She hoped it would be neither, but secretly, she knew she wanted the latter. Sherlock grabbed the laptop and went back onto the tab of him and her, wanting her embarrassed. He started to read aloud as he held the laptop above Ramona's head, as she desperately tried to get it back.

"Ramona realised that in that moment, watching Sherlock's handsome features contort into a smile, that she loved him, wanted him. She wanted nothing more than him." Ramona began to feel her pulse in the back of her throat. "His cheekbones cut off the light of the streetlamp perfectly, and she had to look away in fear of taking him," Sherlock's words slowed as Ramona stilled. "Right there," He looked at her predator like. "Right then." He looked down at her hands, that had been placed on the collar of his blue dressing gown. She dropped them instantly. Keeping eye contact, Sherlock put down the laptop, and Ramona felt like he was preparing himself, and she was waiting. He straightened in front of her, and before she could think, she was walking backwards to the bit of wall next to the window, until she almost winded herself, unexpectedly hitting the wall. He walked towards her, blue eyes now black with fire. He walked so close to her, she thought he might go straight through her. He put his hands dangerously on her hips, and suddenly, gently, crashed his lips onto hers. For a second, Ramona felt herself almost being lifted by his touch, before she grounded herself with her hands in his hair. She then realised the kiss had already been exchanged thousands of times through their eyes. Although it started off gentle, His kisses became more desperate, as if she was air and he was drowning. She gently moaned into the kiss accidentally, but it only made him want her more. Ramona realised he had started to dig his nails into her slightly, which bewildered her even more. She suddenly realised she could hear John outside. They were always interrupted, that was for sure. She gently put her hands on his chest, and tried to push him away softly, but he was obviously in some world of his own, as he refused to move an inch away from her. she tried to move her face to talk but she then remembered that she was against a wall. He moved to her neck, and she thought she might just melt into a puddle underneath his shoes.

"Sh- sher- Sherlock." She said shakily. He just chuckled darkly, knowing what he was doing. She started to hear footsteps, that he was obviously oblivious to. "Sher- Sherlock, John's coming." He sighed, but before stopping gave her a love-bite on her neck, that everyone would see. She could hide it from John, but Toby? He knew exactly what he was doing. But she didn't have a clue as to what she was doing. He walked away calmly, and Ramona was left by the wall, wondering as to what just happened.

"By the sounds you were making, I'd say you enjoyed that." She opened her mouth to snap back at him, but before she could John was there, all innocent and unknowing. He looked between the two before setting the bags down in the kitchen. Sherlock moved to his chair and turned on the telly, as if nothing had happened. Maybe it hadn't. Maybe Ramona's need for him had gotten so strong that her mind was playing tricks on her she frowned in confusion. She said goodbye to John in a daze, and as she left, Sherlock gave her a smirk, and she came to the conclusion it had not been her mind playing tricks on her, but Sherlock.

* * *

**Shit just went downnn**

**But the thing is, you all know what episode I'm doing. Brace yourselves!**

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, you're so lovely :)**


	15. Girl Afraid

**Girl Afraid**

I don't own Sherlock unfortunately :(

* * *

Ramona spent all night lying on her back, staring at the ceiling trying to comprehend what had happened. Sherlock hadn't quite been himself she supposes, but that was no excuse for his... outburst. And then no explanation? As the sun rose, and started to light her bedroom through her blinds, Ramona became angry. How dare he do that? Is she just some sort of toy? She turned onto her stomach and moaned exasperatedly, the noise only muffled by her pillow. The girl wanted to confront him, but how? Would he do it again? Would he deny it never happened?

She knocked on the door slowly, doubting whether this was the best idea. Mrs Hudson answered the door with a smile. "Hey." She smiled back at the kind woman.

"Hello deary, oh, do come in." She ushers the girl in. She enters to see Sherlock, holding a paper up to hide his face. John sits next to him at the table, greeting the girl and glaring at paper that refused to move to acknowledge her existence. She sat down at the table.

"Any new cases?"

"They were all deemed too boring for Sherlock." He gave the paper another dirty look. She nods, disappointed. Suddenly Johns phone springs to life, a common ringtone filling the flat. He holds up one finger, answers, and goes outside. Ramona waits for five seconds after he's gone to speak.

"Sherlock?"

He doesn't even look up from his newspaper, which she can tell he's not reading. "Yes."

"Are we going to talk about..." There's a silence that lasts about 10 seconds.

"Talk about what?" He puts down his newspaper.

"I... Are you really going to be like that?" She frowned angrily.

"What are you talking about, Ramona?"

"Last night." She said, gazing into the table, like she should be ashamed. Maybe she should be.

"I'm... Still not following." He frowned in confusion, and she began to think maybe he couldn't actually remember. Sighing, she pulled her polar neck down from her jumper, to reveal a purple mark on her neck. His eyes widened.

"You gave me this." His jaw dropped as he scrambled for his phone.

"You're saying this was last night?" He said, dialing a number as she nodded, her brow still furrowed with confusion.

"I have to make a call."

"What?" She asked incredulously. Had the doctor given him the wrong pills that gives him self-restraint? She rolled her eyes to herself and walked over to the window, looking over the familiar city landscape.

**Sherlock**

_What has that stupid man done now? Honestly, can't you get a decent double these days? Maybe without harassing my colleagues? But if he did that, and she let him, maybe even reciprocated... Did she? Or did he just do it anyway? _Both viable theories made Sherlock feel sick to his stomach. He wanted to murder him. _How dare he take her from me? What? Do I class her as mine now? Why am I constantly having these dis-pleasant feelings every time something like this happens? Why do people keep wanting to touch her? Can't they just... Stop? Is it that hard not to touch her? You know full well that it's one of the hardest things you have ever encountered, what about normal men? _Dread hangs onto every atom of him. The double finally picks up the phone.

"What is it?"

"You know, normally, people tend to greet each other politely, especially when one is paying another."

"Whatever, Sherlock. So, what you got for me?"

"A few things."

"Go on then."

"Firstly, Why has Ramona told me I apparently kissed her?!" He hisses quietly down the phone, careful not to alert anyone else of his situation.

"What? Mate, I thought you were going out like!" Sherlock rubs his temples with a thumb and forefinger.

"Take everything about me in the tabloids with a pinch of salt from now on. Even if we were going out, why would you kiss her?" He started frowning. What if they had done more then kissed? He felt horror in his veins at the thought of someone else with her.

"Well, she's proper fit, you gotta admit." The man on the other end takes a bite of something, Sherlock rolls his eyes, but find himself not disagreeing. "Anyway, she did kiss me back, so, you learn sommet new everyday, right?"

Sherlock's jaw drops. "What?"

"She was really into it mate. Maybe that's just my skill though, you never know." Sherlock hung up. He stood there, gob-smacked. _I'm going to have to go through with it. If I want to keep the deadly secret, I'm going to have to make up an excuse. A personality disorder? She already knew the symptoms for that probably, but I could pull it off. Every once in a while, kiss her like that so she'd believe it? He felt something in his stomach that would have been described as butterflies, had he ever felt them before. He killed them quickly, confused as to why it would make him feel excited that that may be a viable option. _

**Ramona**

Sherlock walked back in, as she watched tentatively. "So?"

The detective sits at the table. "I-" John walked in, cutting him off. They both turned to him too quickly to be innocent. He frowned for a split second, and then Sherlock got a text. He scrambled to pick it up, making Ramona and John share a look of confusion. As he reads the text, his eyes widen, and he sinks into his seat, gazing into nothingness. She frowns and picks up his phone, and he doesn't budge.

**Come and play.**

**Tower Hill.**

**Jim Moriarty x.**

She frowns even harder as she shows it to John. His jaw drops. "He's back." John stumbles to find a chair, leaving Ramona completely bewildered, looking between them with narrowed eyes.

The three watched the screen as they are watching the recorded security footage taken from behind Jim as he sticks the gum onto the glass. From a distance it's not clear what he then pushes into the gum. Ramona watches Sherlock lean into the screen and wonders for a second how he could possibly be unaccustomed to relationships. _He's just so attractive.. Maybe he's gay. That would or wouldn't explain what happened yesterday. _She shook her head slightly and focused._ He must of used a diamond._

"That glass is tougher than anything." Lestrade says, disbelieving the proof on the small screen.

"Not tougher than crystallized carbon. He used a diamond."

Lestrade adjusts the footage, which shifts to a recording taken from the other side of the glass. The footage also goes into reverse, showing the glass rising back up into place before it shattered. As Jim pulls the fire extinguisher back again and the glass becomes whole, the message which he scrawled onto it becomes clear. He deliberately wrote the words backwards on the glass so that they would be seen from the camera on the other side of the case. With the smiley face inside the "O", the message reads:

GET

SHERLOCK

Ramona frowns in confusion, watching for Sherlock's reaction quickly. He doesn't react at all, his eyes fixed on the screen.

She fixed her hair into a bun , looking at her reflection in complete disdain. Ramona was wearing a black pencil skirt, a white blouse, and a dreaded black blazer, which reminded her of her school days. At least she didn't have to wear a tie again. She scowled at the mirror As she noticed Sherlock watching her in the mirror. "I dare you to say what you want to."

He smirked as she gave him a warning look. "You look very... Conservative." Ramona huffed.

"And you look the same as always."

"It goes with any occasion." He buttons up his blazer, as Ramona struggles to fight the impulse to bite her lip.

"Yet you wear a sheet to Buckingham palace." They both giggle in synchronization as John walks in.

Sherlock leads the way downstairs and goes to the front door, then stops and turns to the side to allow Ramona and John to pass him and reach out towards the door.

"Ready?" John asks, looking rather dapper in his suit.

"Yes." Replies Sherlock.

As John opens the door, hordes of reporters literally start shouting questions at them, as police officers push them back, making a pathway to the police car for the trio.

"Remember ..." Starts John.

"Yes." replies Sherlock immediately.

John is insistent however."Remember..."

"Yes."

John looks away in frustration, Ramona slightly frowns, as she tries to get the message to Sherlock by speaking quickly. "Remember what they told you: don't try to be clever..."

"No." Sherlock speaks over her.

"And please, just keep it simple and brief." Adds John.

"God forbid the star witness at the trial should come across as intelligent." Sherlock answers sarcastically.

"'Intelligent', fine; let's give 'smart-arse' a wide berth." Ramona narrows her eyes at the cocky detective.

There's a slight pause. "I'll just be myself."

"Are you even listening to us?!" Ramona says, irritated.

Ramona and John sit in the public gallery upstairs, and she finds her heart in her throat as Moriarty's conniving eyes find her and winks, making her feel vulnerable, as she swallowed involuntarily, and quickly switched on a death glare, making him smile. He looked her up and down and looked back to whatever it was he was doing. Sherlock watched the exchange with a sick feeling, like he cared if she was in danger.

"A 'consulting criminal'." Says the prosecuting barrister.

"Yes." Replies Sherlock.

"Your words. Can you expand on that answer?"

"James Moriarty is for hire."

"A tradesman?"

"Yes."

"But not the sort who'd fix your heating."

"No, the sort who'd plant a bomb or stage an assassination, but I'm sure he'd make a pretty decent job of your boiler." Ramona rolls her eyes and smiles at the man, as he looks up to gauge her reaction. There's muffled laughter from some people in the court, and the prosecuting barrister tries to hide her smile.

"Would you describe him as..."

"Leading." Sherlock interrupts her.

"What?"

"Can't do that. You're leading the witness. He looks towards the defending barrister. He'll object and the judge will uphold." The judge looks exasperated – apparently this isn't the first time Sherlock has done this during his evidence.

"Mr Holmes." Says the judge.

"Ask me how. How would I describe him? What opinion have I formed of him? Do they not teach you this?" Sherlock asks the prosecuting barrister.

"Mr Holmes, we're fine without your help." Says the judge again. John turns round to see a Woman enter the public gallery, who at first glance would be Sherlock's number one stalker, but at second glance to Ramona, was a journalist.

"How would you describe this man – his character?"

"First mistake." He locks his gaze onto Moriarty. "James Moriarty isn't a man at all – he's a spider; a spider at the centre of a web – a criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances."Jim nods his head happily in approval of the description. The prosecuting barrister clears her throat awkwardly.

"And how long ..."

Sherlock buts in again, closing his eyes in exasperation."No, no, don't-don't do that. That's really not a good question."

"Mr Holmes." Says the judge, now angrily.

"How long have I known him? Not really your best line of enquiry. We met twice, five minutes in total. I pulled a gun; he tried to blow me up. I felt we had a special something." He adds sarcastically. Moriarty raises his eyebrows at this.

The judge turns to the prosecuting barrister. "Miss Sorrel, are you seriously claiming this man is an expert, after knowing the accused for just five minutes?"

"Two minutes would have made me an expert. Five was ample."

The judge now turns to Sherlock. "Mr Holmes, that's a matter for the jury."

Sherlock frowns "Oh, really?" Ramona and John slowly turn to each other, making an 'Oh Shit.' Expression.

Sherlock signs for his property outside the cell, as Ramona desperately trys to put a disapproving look over her emerging smirk, folding her arms.

"What did we say? We said to not get clever." John says to Sherlock.

"I can't just turn it on and off like a tap." Taking the bag of items from the custody officer, he turns to John as they begin to walk away.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Asks John. Ramona turns to Sherlock

"Like you said it would be." She reffered to Moriarty's defending barrister. "He sat on his backside, never even stirred."

"Moriarty's not mounting any defence."

* * *

Ramona sits in Johns chair, staring disbelieving at the detective in a dressing gown. He lies on his back on the sofa. She opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off but Sherlocks phone springing to life. After hearing a frantic tone in a voice through his phone, she sees Sherlock lower his phone slowly.

"You need to leave."

"What?"

"Go now."

"Why?"

He gets up venomously and stares down at her.

"Its going to be a very dangerous situation for you here in around," He checks his watch. "Five minutes. Go into your flat or something, leave me for a while."

She frowns. "No."

"Why do you always have to be so stubborn!" He shouts, opening the door. She doesn't move.

"Well, they do say we're very alike." He looks at her in a rage, and suddenly changes his attitude to pleading.

"Please, leave now."

"Unless you drag me, it's not happening. I'm guessing Moriarty walked away, and now he's coming here. I can handle myself, don't worry."

"I wasn't worrying." He says through gritted teeth, slamming the door so hard she thought it would come off the hinges, making her eyes widen.

Ramona stands up, as if preparing herself. In the kitchen he switches on the kettle and slams down a small tray beside it, putting a jug of milk, a sugar bowl, a teapot and two cups and saucers with teaspoons onto the tray. The kettle comes to the boil and switches off and Sherlock, now wearing a jacket in place of the dressing gown, makes the tea and takes the tray to the table beside John's chair, then walks over to his own chair and picks up his violin and bow. As he begins to play Bach's Sonata No. 1 in G minor, downstairs the front door is expertly lock-picked and pushed open. Jim's easily-recognisable shadow precedes him as he slowly walks along the hall and up the stairs. Partway up, one of the stairs creaks noisily and Jim pauses for a moment, as does Sherlock's playing. A couple of seconds later Sherlock resumes from a few notes before where he stopped and Jim starts to climb the stairs again. Sherlock, standing with his back to the living room door, keeps playing until Jim pushes open the door, then he stops but doesn't yet turn around.

"Most people knock." Sherlock shrugs. "But then you're not most people, I suppose." He gestures to the kitchen with his bow. "Kettle's just boiled."

Jim walks further into the room and bends to pick up an apple from the bowl on the coffee table, smiling almost perversely at Ramona, as Sherlock clenches his jaw unhappily. "Johann Sebastian would be appalled." He says. Tossing the apple up and catching it he looks around the living room as if searching for a seat. "May I?"

"Please." He gestures with the end of his bow towards John's chair. Jim immediately walks over to Sherlock's chair and sits in that one instead. Sherlock looks slightly unnerved, which Ramona hates. Jim takes out a small penknife and starts to cut into the apple while Sherlock puts down the violin and begins to pour tea into the cups. Ramona stands next to the table, watching the man carve something into the apple.

"You know when he was on his death bed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end ..."

"...and the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it." Finished Sherlock.

"Couldn't cope with an unfinished melody."

"Neither can you. That's why you've come." Says Ramona matter of factually.

Moriarty smirks at the girl. "But be honest: you're just a tiny bit pleased."

Sherlock quickly diverts the mans attention back to him. "What, with the verdict?"

He picks up one of the teacups, adds a splash of milk and turns and offers the cup to Jim, who sits up straighter and takes it.

"With me... back on the streets." He gazes into Ramona's eyes. "Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain." Ramona turns away to sit at the table. He grins. Sherlock adds milk to his own cup.

"You need me, or you're nothing. Because we're just alike, you and I – except you're boring." Ramona raises her eyebrows. If he was boring compared to Jim, how interesting was he? Curiosity involuntarily spiked into her mind.

"You're on the side of the angels." He sips his tea calmly.

"Got to the jury, of course." Ramona narrows her eyes slightly.

Jim smiles. "I got into the Tower of London; you think I can't worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?"

"Cable network."

"Every hotel bedroom has a personalised TV screen ... And every person has their pressure point; someone that they want to protect from harm." Ramona wonders how someone so innocent looking could be so evil. "Easy-peasy." He adds softly.

"So how're you going to do it... burn me?" Ramona frowns in confusion.

Jim speaks softly. "Oh, that's the problem – the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet?"

"What's the final problem? I did tell you,but did you listen?" He takes another sip of tea and then puts the cup down into the saucer. Putting his hand onto his knee, he starts idly drumming his fingers. Ramona and Sherlock's eyes lower to watch the movement.

"How hard do you find it, having to say 'I don't know'?"

Sherlock puts his cup into its saucer and shrugs. "I dunno."

"Oh, that's clever; that's very clever; awfully clever."

He chuckles as Sherlock smiles humourlessly while putting his cup back onto the tray.

"Speaking of clever," He turns to her. "Do you know why I broke into all those places and never took anything?"

"No."

"But you understand."

"Obviously." She says, trying to look bored.

"Off you go, then." He has carved a piece off his apple and puts it into his mouth with the flat of his penknife.

"You want me to tell you what you already know?" She frowns slightly.

"No; I want you to prove that you know it."

"You didn't take anything because you don't need to."

Jim answers softly. "Good." He smiles approvingly.

"You'll never need to take anything ever again."

"Very good. Because ...?"

"Because nothing ... nothing in the Bank of England, the Tower of London or Pentonville Prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three."

"I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now – they're all mine. No such thing as secrecy – I own secrecy. Nuclear codes – I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king; and honey, you should see me in a crown." He smiles in delight at the girl as Sherlock watches, worried.

"You were just advertising all the way through the trial. You were showing the world what you can do."

"And you were helping. Big client list: rogue governments, intelligence communities ... terrorist cells. They all want me." He lifts another piece of apple to his mouth with the penknife.

"Suddenly, I'm Mr Sex." He winks at Ramona, as she matches his playfulness with equally powerful seriousness.

"If you could break any bank, what do you care about the highest bidder?" She asks.

"I don't. I just like to watch them all competing. "Daddy loves me the best!" Aren't ordinary people adorable? Well, you know: you've got John. I should get myself a live-in one." He narrows his eyes slightly at the girl, and she sees Sherlock's eyes widen for a second.

"Why are you doing all of this?" He asks.

Jim is obviously still thinking about his last idea, still looking at her. "It'd be so funny."

"You don't want money or power – not really." Jim digs the point of his penknife into the apple.

"What is it all for?" She asks him.

"I want to solve the problem – our problem; the final problem." He lowers his head. "It's gonna start very soon, Sherlock: the fall." He raises his head and whistles a slowly descending note as he gradually looks down towards the floor. "But don't be scared. Falling's just like flying, except there's a more permanent destination." His gaze reaches the floor and he makes the sound of something thudding to the ground. Raising his head slowly, he glowers across at Sherlock, who bares his teeth slightly and then stands and buttons his jacket.

"Never liked riddles."

Jim stands as well and straightens his jacket, locking his gaze onto Sherlock's eyes. "Learn to. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock. I ... owe ... you." He turns to the girl. "You'll be seeing more of me soon, Ramona." He walks closer and whispers into her ear. "I promise."

He continues to gaze at Ramona at such a distance that she could smell the gum he had in his mouth an hour ago for about six seconds, sealing his promise, then slowly turns and walks away. Sherlock doesn't move as Jim leaves the room, but after a while he moves towards the apple which Jim left on the arm of his chair with the penknife still stuck in it. He picks it up by the knife handle and looks at it. Jim has dug a large circular piece out of the apple, and on the left of the circle he has carved an "I" shape while on the right of the circle is a "U" shape, forming the letters "I O U".

Sherlock sighed heavily, and turns to her. "I told you to go. Now you're another thing to worry about."

She ignored him and smiled. "I thought you said you weren't worrying." She takes the apple from him. "You don't have to do that with me, I'm a big girl, and I can easily take care of myself." She says the last sentence with a dangerous glint in her eyes, promising trouble. She took a bite out of the apple in her hand and smiled at the troubled man, who quickly scowled at her confidence.

"You're impossible. You know that?"

"Sounds like something John would say." She answered nonchalantly, and Sherlock smirked to himself, letting her casualness take hold of his anxiety. Little did he know, that inside, she was raw and wracked with nerves, and was terribly afraid for all of them, but for the same reason, had to guard this fact. She had to be strong, especially for him. She had to.

* * *

**Sorry if this was too sticking to the actual show, but I need to yano  
**

**Meanwhile, the news about Benedict having a girlfriend is really depressing me :'(**

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, it really motivates me to keep writing!**


	16. There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

**There Is A Light That Never Goes out**

I don't own anything apart from the OC.

* * *

The car pulls up at St Aldate's prep school, she turns to see the headmistress with a blanket around her shoulders, crying her heart out. Her eyes sadden at the state of her. A police officer comforts her. "Miss Mackenzie, House Mistress. Go easy." Lestrade murmurs to Sherlock. Ramona and him approach the sobbing mess of a woman.

"Miss Mackenzie, you're in charge of pupil welfare, yet you left this place wide open last night." His voice rises angrily ."What are you: an idiot, a drunk or a criminal?" Ramona is taken aback by the sudden display of anger. He grabs the blanket and abruptly pulls it from around her shoulders. She gasps in fear as he glares furiously at her. "Now quickly, tell me!"

"All the doors and windows were properly bolted. No-one – not even me – went into their room last night. You have to believe me!" She replies, cringing in fear. Sherlock's demeanour instantly changes and he smiles reassuringly and gently takes hold of her shoulders.

"I do. I just wanted you to speak quickly."

"Miss Mackenzie will need to breathe into a bag now." Ramona shakes her head at him, as he turns leads the others to the dormitories.

"Six grand a term, you'd expect them to keep the kids safe for you. You said the other kids had all left on their holidays?" Says John. Sherlock looks into a cupboard beside one of the beds as Ramona drops to her knees and peers under the bed.

"They were the only two sleeping on this floor. Absolutely no sign of a break-in." Lestrade informs the trio. Sherlock picks up a lacrosse stick lying on the floor and gets to his feet while looking at the stick closely. He briefly wields it as if using it as a weapon but then apparently decides it wasn't used in that way and drops it to the floor again.

"The intruder must have been hidden inside some place." Says Lestrade. Ramona goes over to a wooden trunk and opens the lid. Amongst the other items inside the trunk he finds a large brown envelope with a wax seal on the back which has already been broken as if someone has opened the envelope. Inside is a large hardback book. Checking the envelope carefully first, she then takes the book out and looks at the cover. The book is "Grimm's Fairy Tales." He looks along the edges of the book and then riffles the pages quickly. Finding nothing of interest, she looks up.

"Show me where the brother slept." Sherlock demands.

He is taken to another smaller dormitory and looks around, going to stand beside the only bed in the room which still has bedding on it. The bed is opposite the door, which has a frosted glass pane in it. He looks towards the door while gesturing down to the bed.

"The boy sleeps there every night, gazing at the only light source outside in the corridor." Ramona says to Sherlock.

"He'd recognise every shape, every outline, the silhouette of everyone who came to the door." Finished Sherlock.

"Okay, so ..." John's voice wanders.

"So someone approaches the door who he doesn't recognise, an intruder. Maybe he can even see the outline of a weapon." She says. Leaving the other three inside the room, he goes outside the door and pulls it almost closed, then raises his hand and points his fingers as if they're a gun, showing the others how it would be seen through the frosted glass. He pushes the door open and comes back into the room.

"What would he do in the precious few seconds before they came into the room? How would he use them if not to cry out?" Asks Sherlock.

"This little boy; this particular little boy..." She points to a pile of books. "Who reads all of those spy books. What would he do?"

"He'd leave a sign?" John asks.

Sherlock starts sniffing noisily. He picks up a cricket bat leaning against the nearby cupboard and sniffs along both sides of it. Ramonn squats and sniffs around the bedside table, then reaches under the bed and finds an almost empty glass bottle of linseed oil. She looks up, eyes wide and turns to Lestrade.

"Get Anderson." Sherlock scowled that she had won the race, but the competitiveness made the two very efficient together. A good team.

Not long afterwards the room has been darkened as much as possible by closing the wooden shutters over the windows. Sherlock shines an ultraviolet light on the wall beside the boy's bed where the words "HELP US" have been written on the wall, only now visible in the light.

"Linseed oil." He said.

"Not much use. Doesn't lead us to the kidnapper."

"Brilliant, Anderson."

"Really?"

"Yes. Brilliant impression of an idiot." Ramona hides a snigger, and remembers the book she found.

"Grimm's fairy tales!" She says happily. Sherlock narrows his eyes at the girl and her ability to undermine him.

"I was just getting to that." They both look down.

"The floor." She states.

There are several sets of illuminated footprints of varying sizes leading towards the door. Sherlock slowly follows them.

"He made a trail for us!"

"The boy was made to walk ahead of them."

John looks to the smaller set of footprints. "On, what, tiptoe?"

"Indicates anxiety; a gun held to his head." Ramona says.

He walks slowly out into the corridor, which has also been blacked out, and follows the footsteps. Anderson walks beside him with another ultraviolet light.

"The girl was pulled beside him, dragged sideways. He had his left arm cradled about her neck." She said sadly. Sherlock frowns at her tone of voice. A few yards along the corridor the glowing footsteps stop.

"That's the end of it. We don't know where they went from here." Says John. Sherlock stops. Anderson turns back to him.

"Tells us nothing after all." He says.

"You're right, Anderson – nothing." He winks at Ramona.

"Except his shoe size, his height, his gait, and his walking pace." The girl smiles at the scowling man.

He reaches to the closest window and tears down the blackout material that had been stuck across it. Daylight floods back into the corridor. Putting the light onto the window sill, he kneels down and takes his wallet of tools and a small lidded plastic Petri dish from his inside pocket. While the police go back towards the bedroom, he puts the dish on the floor, opens the wallet and chuckles contentedly. John squats down beside him.

"Having fun?" Asks John.

"Starting to."

"Maybe don't do the smiling." Sherlock lifts his head, confused.

"Kidnapped children?" Says Ramona.

Sherlock lowers his head again and concentrates on scraping some of the dried linseed oil and floor wax loose with a small scalpel and then using tweezers to pick up the loosened pieces and put them into the container. Ramona and John share a confused look.

Ramona watches the buildings and people go past the window of the taxi absent-mindedly.

"But how did he get past the CCTV? If all the doors were locked ..." Wonders John.

"He walked in when they weren't locked." States Sherlock.

"But a stranger can't just walk into a school like that." Johns brow furrows.

"Anyone can walk in anywhere if they pick the right moment. Yesterday – end of term, parents milling around, chauffeurs, staff. What's one more stranger among that lot?"

Ramona speaks up. "He was waiting for them. All he had to do was find a place to hide."

* * *

"Molly!" Cries Sherlock.

"Oh, hello. I'm just going out." She smiles nervously.

Sherlock put his hands onto her shoulders and turning her back the way she just came "No you're not."

"I've got a lunch date."

"Cancel it. You're having lunch with me."

Reaching into his coat pockets, he dramatically produces a bag of Quavers crisps from each pocket. Ramona rolls her eyes so hard she worries for a second she'll be able to see her brain.

"What?"

"Need your help. It's one of your old boyfriends – we're trying to track him down. He's been a bit naughty!"

Ramona and Sherlock reach the fire doors at the other end of the corridor, he turns and smiles back at Molly, who has stopped dead a few paces back. John also stops and stares at him.

"It's Moriarty?" Asks John.

"Course it's Moriarty." Ramona frowns at the two.

"Er, Jim actually wasn't even my boyfriend. We went out three times. I ended it." Molly says awkwardly.

"Yes, and then he stole the Crown Jewels, broke into the Bank of England and organised a prison break at Pentonville. For the sake of law and order, I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship, Molly." Ramona raises an eyebrow at this. Is this Sherlock's way of saying she shouldn't go out with anyone except for him? What was he trying to say?

Shortly afterwards, wearing her lab coat, Molly pushes her way through the door into Sherlock's favourite lab weighed down by the huge pile of books and files she is carrying. As she staggers into the room, Sherlock is sitting at the bench in front of a microscope. John is standing at the other side of the bench.

Ramona stares out of the window unhappily and absent-mindedly. She admittedly hated science, but it was a fundamental element to what the trio did. John walks over to the other side of the lab, flipping through the police photos.

Ramona watches the interaction between the pair working away at something, for some reason, anxiously. Molly was very pretty and made Ramona very much more insecure when she had to be in the presence of the mousy and nervous scientist. "I need that analysis." Sherlock tells Molly. She squeezes some liquid into a glass dish and applies some Litmus paper to it. The paper turns blue.

"Alkaline."

"Thank you, Ramona."

"Molly."

"Yes." Molly turns away unhappily, and makes a glower at Ramona. She looks down to her shoes and walks across the sterile lab to Sherlock, who has found the first component in the mixture of items and makes a note of it:

He has another sample on a slide "I ... owe ... you." He murmurs very quietly to himself. Ramona goes red, eyes widening, obviously mishearing him.

"W- what?"

"Hm? Oh, just talking to myself."

She sighs. "Of course." He turns his head and looks at a computer screen nearby.

"Glycerol molecule."

"What are you?" Asks Sherlock to the piece of whatever it is He looks into the microscope again as Molly stands beside him typing onto a laptop.

"What did you mean, 'I owe you'?" Ramona decides to join John on the other side of the lab, looking through police photos taken at the school. He finds one of the inside of the wooden trunk which shows the envelope with the wax seal, and another with a close-up of the seal.

"Sherlock." Ramona starts.

"Hmm?"

"This envelope that was in her trunk. There's another one." She points to a photo. Sherlock walks over.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"On our doorstep. Found it today." She gets the envelope out of her pocket and looks at it.

"Look at that. Exactly the same seal." Exclaims John. She reaches into the the envelope and finds breadcrumbs, and frowns. "Grimm's fairy tales..." Her eyes widen to saucers. "Hansel and Gretel." She turns to Sherlock. "Every fairytale need a good old-fashioned villian."

"It's a boast, it's all just a game to him." Sherlock looks back into the the microscope.

"The fifth substance: it's part of the tale."

"The witches house." Ramona murmurs.

"PGPR!" Sherlock cries, as her eyes widen with his.

"What's that?"

"It's used in making chocolate." The trio hurry out of the lab.

* * *

They had found the children, the boy was in intensive care, and the girl was in Scotland Yard. Sherlock paces outside the office while John sits nearby, and Ramona leans on a wall thoughtfully. The door to the office opens and donovan and Greg come out.

"Right, then. The professionals have finished. If the amateurs wanna go in and have their turn..." Donovan says sarcastically to Sherlock. Ramona was very certain that she didn't like the woman, she was too nasty to Sherlock, like she was jealous or something.

"Now, remember, she's in shock and she's just seven years old, so anything you can do to..." Says Lestrade seriously to Sherlock.

"Not be myself." Finishes the consulting detective.

"Yeah. Might be helpful."

Sherlock looks round to John, and starts to walk in, before Ramona grabbed the back of his coat. He slowly turned round, frowning. She stifles a laugh at his expression as she reaches up and un-pops the collar of his coat. He rolls his eyes and smiles at the small girl, who looks up to return the smiles. Donovan crosses her arms as Lestrade shares a knowing smile with John.

They walk in, and Sherlock goes to sit down. "Claudette, I..." He's unable to get anymore words out because she takes one look at Sherlock and begins to give out screams of terror.

"No-no, I know it's been hard for you..." She continues to scream and tries to scramble away whilst pointing at him. Ramona frowns in complete confusion.

"Claudette, listen to me..."

"Out. Get out!" Lestrade grabs Sherlock's arm roughly and bundles him out of the room as the girl continues to scream. Sherlock is standing at the window of another office looking out into the night through the slats of the Venetian blinds with Ramona, occasionally watching her eyes search the dark night sky, trying to find a star which doesn't end up being a plane. Sally stands at the other side of the office watching them thoughtfully.

"Makes no sense."

"The kid's traumatised. Something about Sherlock reminds her of the kidnapper." Ramona turns round to face the people.

"So what's she said?" she asks.

"Hasn't uttered another syllable." Donovan replies.

"And the boy?" Asks John.

"No, he's unconscious; still in intensive care."

Suddenly Sherlock is staring wide eyed out of the window, Ramona frowns but ignores the strange man.

"Well, don't let it get to you. I always feel like screaming when you walk into a room! In fact, so do most people." Says Lestrade, trying to lighten the mood. He looks around to Sally and John. "Come on." He and John leave the room.

"Brilliant work you did, finding those kids from just a footprint. It's really amazing." Donovan says to Sherlock. Ramona wonders if in the world of recognition she really is in his shadow, however unknown to onlookers, casting an even bigger one.

"Thank you." Sherlock goes to leave.

"Unbelievable." Says Donovan pointedly. Sherlock hesitate and then continues on. Ramona narrows her eyes at the woman clearly, leaving Sally to swallow as she leaves with a death glare in her eyes.

John waits for Sherlock and the accompanying girl to join him and then looks down the street.

"Ah." He raises his hand to hail the approaching taxi. As the boys walk to the edge of the kerb, John looks round to Sherlock. Ramona has a distant look in her eyes.

"You okay?"

"Thinking." He says, as the taxi pulls up in front of them.

"This is my cab. You get the next one."

"Why?" She frowns incredulously.

"You might talk." Ramona rolls her eyes at the man.

John and Ramonas cab pull up as Sherlock is spinning around, trying to find something, looking distressed. She frowns as she leans to see more of the scene, and gasps loudly as she sees the slumped figure of a big man in front of him. She quickly jumps out and sprints towards him as John is paying.

Sherlock stands twitching his fingers fretfully while an ambulance crew wheels the mans body away. He watches Ramona with a creased brow, watching her watch the dead man being wheeled away with a blank expression, unreadable as always.

"That ... it's him. It's him. Sulejmani or something. Mycroft showed me his file. He's a big Albanian gangster lives two doors down from us." Ramona raises an eyebrow in confusion.

"He died because I shook his hand." States Sherlock.

"What d'you mean?" Asks John.

"He saved my life but he couldn't touch me. Why?" Sherlock storms off, the two share a look and follow him.

In 221B, Ramona looks around. "They were all here for you, but weren't allowed to touch you. They weren't posing a threat, they were..."

"A web of surveillance, closing in around me." Her eyes widen slightly.

"They- he won't of stopped there. There has to be..."

"We have to get Mrs Hudson."

Mrs Hudson stands in the living room with the trio in her nightie.

Okay Mrs Hudson, this is really important. Can you remember precise details what's been cleaned in the last week?"

"Well, Tuesday I did your lino..." Ramona smiles at the woman.

"No, in here, this room. This is where we'll find it – any break in the dust line. You can put back anything but dust." Says Sherlock. He lifts his hand from the latest piece of furniture that he has been running his finger along, and twirls his finger dramatically in the air.

"Dust is eloquent."

She turns to John. "What's he on about?" John shakes his head and mumbles.

"Cameras. We're being watched." Ramona says to the woman. She turns to the bookcase and gets on her tip toes trying to look at each shelf on the book case. Sherlock watches with narrowed eyes.

"What? Cameras?" Mrs Hudson visibly cringes. "Here? I'm in my nightie!"

The doorbell rings and Mrs Hudson hurries out of the room, John following her. Sherlock has climbed down and now checks in the eye sockets of the skull on the mantelpiece before climbing onto small tables on the other side of the fireplace to look at the bookshelves there. Ramona starts checking the books on the top shelf,having to jump to do so. She realises that the one on the far right has more movement around it than it ought to. She visibly struggles to get an arm into the shelf as she moves books around, grunting. She lets out a cry as She finds a camera, and reaches up to remove it. She pouts when she can't reach, making Sherlock giggle and tries to retrieve it for her. Ramona pokes him in the ribs playfully as he stretches to does so, making him retaliate in extra force, grinning. She lets out a loud 'OW!' and giggles like a schoolgirl, making him grin even more as she blushes slightly at her immaturity, poking him harder than before, as he laughs and keels over slightly. They're both laughing together as Greg comes into the room followed by John. The pair instantly stop and snap to them, like two suspicious children. Sherlock looks back to the camera, focusing on trying to remove it. She realises what Moriarty has done. Planted a seed of doubt into them with the screaming little girl, and waiting until it grew into a plant full of arrests.

"No, Inspector."

"What?" Lestrade frowned.

"The answer's no."

"But you haven't heard the question!"

"You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking." Sherlock walks closer. Greg pulls in a breath.

"Sherlock-" Starts Lestrade.

"The scream?" Sherlock asks, butting in.

"Yeah."

"Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan. Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? Ah, Moriarty is smart. He planted that doubt in her head; that little nagging sensation. You're going to have to be strong to resist. You can't kill an idea, can you? Not once it's made a home..." He puts an index finger briefly onto the middle of Lestrade's forehead. "There."

"Will you come?" He asks.

Sherlock turns away, sitting down at the laptop and beginning to type. "One photograph – that's his next move. Moriarty's game: first the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch by inch." He picks up the camera again, he looks at it for a moment, then raises his eyes to Greg's.

"It is a game, Lestrade, and not one I'm willing to play." His voice reaches the depths of baritone, and Ramona fears for a second she might just swoon, the sound turning her knees weak. She swallows quickly and darts her eyes around the room, trying to regain feeling to her legs. "Give my regards to Sargeant Donovan." Lestrade sigh's and shares a brief look with John, before turning and leaving.

"They'll be deciding." Sherlock says.

"Deciding?" Asks John.

"Whether to come back with a warrant and arrest me."

"You think?"

"Standard procedure."

"Should have gone with him. People'll think..." John starts.

"I don't care what people think." Sherlock interrupts.

"You'd care if they thought you were stupid, or wrong." Ramona says.

"No, that would just make them stupid or wrong." John turns toward Sherlock angrily.

"Sherlock, I don't want the world believing you're..." Ramona's voice drifts, as she locks eyes with him.

"That I am what?" He asks.

"A fraud." Sherlock rolls his eyes and sits back in the seat.

"You're worried they're right." Ramona thinks for a second. It would be plausible. It could be why he couldn't figure out anything about her when they met. Why she almost always deduced things before him. She frowned. This couldn't be right. It wouldn't. It won't.

"What?" Asks John.

"You're worried they're right about me."

"No." Ramona says, slightly too angry.

"That's why you're so upset. You can't even entertain the possibility that they might be right. You're afraid that you've been taken in as well."

Ramona looks out of the window, looking at all the city lights. "No I'm not." Sherlock leans forward.

"Moriarty is playing with your mind too." He slams a fist down on the table furiously, causing Ramona's eyes to snap from the scenery to him, which was better than any city lights. "Can't you see what's going on?" She looks at him, and narrows her eyes at him. She thinks she sees him flinch at her stare, or she hopes so. Ramona turns back to the window.

"Of course I can. I figured it out the moment that girl started screaming. It's simple, yet devastating. Moriarty's being clever about this, but I can tell. You're for real."

"A hundred percent?"

"Of course. Anyway, nobody could fake being such an annoying dick all the time." Sherlock lock s eyes with her once again, and his mouth twitches with the ghost of a smile.

The doorbell rings twice before a voice can be heard. "Police!"

"I'll go." Mrs Hudson says. Ramona feels extreme anger at the situation.

Mrs Hudson turns and hurries down the stairs as someone continues to knock on the door. Voices can be heard as she opens the door.

They hear Donovan shout for Sherlock.

"Evening, Mrs Hudson." Lestrade's voice can be heard from the door. Ramona pulls on her leather jacket, looking very serious. Sherlock's eyes follow her darkly.

"We need to talk to you!" Donovan calls up the stairs.

"Don't barge in like that!" Cries Mrs Hudson angrily. Feet can suddenly be heard trotting up the stairs. Calmly Sherlock turns around and picks up his scarf and loops it around his neck. John blocks the stairway to 221B. Sherlock puts his coat on. Greg stands in front of him while one of two armed officers attaches handcuffs to his left wrist.

"Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping." John gestures towards Sherlock while looking at Greg as the officer pulls Sherlock's left hand behind his back roughly in order to cuff his other wrist.

"He's not resisting, there's no need for that." she says, trying to remain calm.

"It's alright, Ramona." Sherlock tells her.

"He's not resisting. No, it's not all right. This is bloody ridiculous!" She exclaims.

"Get him downstairs now." The officer spins Sherlock around and marches him out of the door. Mrs Hudson is nearly in tears.

"You know you don't have to do..."

"Don't try to interfere, or I shall arrest you too." Says Lestrade, getting in his face. He turns and leaves the room. Ramona turns to Donovan with a fire in her eyes, who is standing near the door.

"You done?" She says to the very smug Sally.

"Oh, I said it." Ramona narrows her eyes, as the woman turns to John. "First time we met."

"Don't bother."

"Solving crimes won't be enough. One day he'll cross the line. Now, ask yourself: what sort of man would kidnap those kids just so he can impress us all by finding them?" Ramona clenches her jaw as Mrs Hudson gasps. The chief superintendent walks in.

"Donovan."

"Sir."

"Got our man?"

"Er, yes, sir."

"Looked a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me." Ramona clenches her fist and turns towards him. "Often are, these vigilante types." She feels anger like never before, after Sherlock basically did their job for them, he says this. She has the urge to hit him, and just might. He turns around to see Ramona staring at him. "What are you looking at?" He asks her. She smirks to see Sally's eyes widen as Ramona's fist collided with his face.

Her victim later walked out of the building holding a bloody handkerchief to his nose.

"Are you all right, sir?"

Sherlock is leaning against the side of a police car, facing it. Ramona is slammed against it to his left, causing a grunt to escape her. He gives a dirty look to the officer who had been man handling her, before giving an amused one to Ramona.

"Joining me?"

She smirked. "Yeah. Apparently it's against the law to punch the chief superintendant." She feels and looks the part in her jacket. "I'm seriously resisting the urge to pop my collar right now." They share a chuckle. Behind them, a couple of armed officers unlock the cuff on Sherlock's right hand and put it on Ramona's right wrist, chaining the boys together. Sherlock looks over his shoulder, watching what the officers are doing and where they're standing.

"Hmm. Bit awkward, this."

"Yeah. Tough to make an imminent and daring escape, if you ask me." He smiles down at the girl. He looks down at the squealing radio lying on the dashboard of the car they're leaning against. The dispatcher starts to speak.

"All units to two-seven." The dispatcher says, and starts to repeat herself before Sherlock rapidly reaches through the open window of the car with his free hand and presses down on the Talk button. Instantly the officer behind the boys doubles over in pain and grabs at his earpiece when a high-pitched squeal of feedback rips through it. Sherlock reaches behind him and pulls the officer's pistol free, instantly raising it. Because it's in his left hand, Ramona shackled right hand is yanked upwards as well and he gasps in surprise at the quick turning of tables. Sherlock aims at the nearest officer."Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please get on your knees?" He shouts. When no one reacted, he fired a bullet into the once silent night sky. "Now would be good!" Ramona gasps at the noise, praying that flashbacks would stay at bay. He lowers the pistol and points it at the officer again.

"Do as he says!"

The police start to kneel as Ramona and Sherlock back away. "I'm your hostage." He frowns for a second in confusion at the girl, before cottoning on, changing the gun over to his right hand and placing the gun next to her temple gently. He gives her a trying look before she swallows and nods slightly. "My hostage!" She gasps, acting dumb. He hides a smirk at the girl before they both continue backing away from the kneeling police. The pair back carefully around a corner.

After a pause of two seconds, Ramona speaks up. "So what should we do now?"

"Doing what Moriarty wants – I'm becoming a fugitive. Run." He turns and begins to sprint off down the road, dragging her at first with him, before Ramona catches up and basically races him. As they run side by side, Sherlock loops the loose chain between their handcuffs around his wrist.

"Take my hand." He says to her. She glances down at the later clad hand and doesn't give a second thought to it. She struggles to hide a big grin, visualising what they must look like to other people.

"There'll be no hearing the end of this." She says, smiling in the dark, her face only lit when they passed the lamp posts. Sirens can suddenly be heard approaching at the junction ahead of them. Sherlock swerves to his left and drops the pistol in the process. It clatters to the ground. Ramona's stomach drops.

"The gun!"

"Leave it!" He squeezes her hand and pulls her along, and shoves her down into a side alley as police cars race past. the alley looked too much like the one her worst nightmare had occurred. She hid her immense fear from him as best she could. They run down the alleyway and reach high railings blocking their way. They share a look before they both race each other to the dustbin, where almost in syncronisation, jusmp onto the dustbins, and then vaulting over the railings together. Ramona was always competitive, so mid-vault, put one light foot trainer sole onto the top of the railing, and pushes her body forwards, propelling herself into a front-flip, and landing it perfectly. She mentally thanked her secondary school gymnastics team, before feeling like a complete badass. Ramona leant down slightly to get her hands up to pop her collar. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the girl.

"Always have to be make it a competition, don't you?"

"I only do because I'm certain to win." She smirked.

Reaching a T-junction Sherlock turns to the right, then immediately brakes and ducks back again as a sirening police car races past the end of the alley. They lean on the wall, catching their breath for a moment. "Mycroft could help you. He could fix this."

He frowned. "A family reconciliation? Really not the time." There was a pause in the baritone voice. "Why do you hold such a high opinion of my brother?" Ramona sigh's. "Is there something going on between you two?"

"Oh my god Sherlock." He frowns. "Of course not." His tall figure slouched a bit. "Why do you care? Why do you always get so weird when its anything about me and a man?" An intense silence dances in the cold alley between them, as he stares her wildly down. She swallows and looks away, to see a face peering at them from the other end of the alley. She frowns and narrows her eyes, as Sherlock pulls her to the other side of the alley so he can look at the other side of the road, she grunts as her back hits the brick wall. "Sherlock..." She says in an uneasy tone.

"Yes."

"We're being followed by one of our neighbors. I'm sure he knows something." He raises a brow, before quickly darting to the opposite side of the alley to where they saw the curious face. "Where are you going?"

"We're going to jump in front of that bus."

"What?!" Sherlock's already running, dragging the incredulous girl with him at a speed. He suddenly stops in front of the fast approaching double decker, and Ramona swings with the handcuffs to join him. The man they saw charges into the road, before shoving the three of them both out of the path of the bus, as it passes, its horn blaring. Before their hero - or Ramona - can recover, Sherlock sits up and drags the mans gun out of his jean pocket, cocks and points it at him.

"Tell me what you want from me." Sherlock says sternly. The man does nothing but stare wide eyed. "Tell me." He says, getting more agitated.

"He left it at your flat." The man says.

"Who?" Sherlock asks.

"Moriarty."

"What?" Sherlock frowns as the three slowly get up, Sherlock still holding a steady hand on the gun.

"Of course. He's selling it – the programme he used to break into the Tower. He planted it when he came around." Ramona says, suddenly catching on. She suddenly hears three loud gunshots and sees the man reel and drop to the ground like a doll of sorts. They boths stare around to try and catch who did it, but as they hear sirens approaching, duck into an open doorway and another cop car drives past the end of the road. They both catch their breath.

"It's a game-changer. It's a key – it can break into any system and it's sitting in our flat right now. That's why he left that message telling everyone where to come. 'Get Sherlock.' We need to get back into the flat and search." Ramona nods in thought.

"Police'll be camped out. Why's he doing this? Trying to disprove everything you've ever done? What's the final trick? The final curtain call? He's going to try and hurt you more then you have been already, and he's exploiting all your weaknesses. We need to make sure John's safe-" She spots a pile of newspapers and picks up the top copy. "Jesus, have you seen this?" She shows the copy of the Sun to Sherlock. "Some kind of kiss and tell. Some bloke named Rich Brook." She looks up to gauge his reaction to the name, as he slowly turns his head to her. The name obviously means something to him. "Who is he Sherlock?" She frowned at him.

Ramona stood in the living room, trying to check her pockets without having to get on her knees so she could get her handcuffed wrists to where she wanted. She got in an awkward position and found three hairpins in her pocket, giving one to Sherlock, they began to unlock their handcuffs. He chuckled at the girls expression as she stuck her tongue out slightly, concentrating hard on freeing herself. She was done ten seconds after a smirking Sherlock, watching her pout as she knew she had been beaten. Footsteps can suddenly be heard coming up the steps, and a slow creak of the door, followed by a woman entering cautiously into her own flat, to see intruders. "Too late to go on the record?" Sherlock asks.

After a lot of talking, a scruffy man walks through the door, unshaven, around two days old clothes, carrying two shopping bags. On closer inspection she sees it's Moriarty. Ramona;s eyes widen. "Darling, they didn't have any ground coffee so I just got normal..." He raises his eyes and stares in terror at the sight of Sherlock, whose own eyes widen. Jim drops the shopping bag and backs away until he bumps into the wall behind him, holding his hands up protectively in front of him. "You said that they wouldn't find me here. You said that I'd be safe here." He says, his voice trembling and wavering with fear.

"You are safe, Richard. I'm a witness. He wouldn't harm you in front of witnesses." John points at Jim as Ramona continues to stare at him blankly.

"So that's your source? Moriarty is Richard Brook?!" John cries.

"Of course he's Richard Brook. There is no Moriarty. There never has been." Ramona's brow creases, confusion pulling them down like a tonne of weight.

"What are you talking about?" Ramona asks incredulously.

"Look him up. Rich Brook – an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty." Moriarty, or Richard Brook, pipes up.

"Miss Doherty, I know you're a good woman." Ramona snaps out of her confusion, suddenly changing to ferocity._ This can't be right. It's not. It's all part of his plan to divide and conquer us. Or maybe Sherlock is pulling a double bluff... No! This isn't right. It's not and it never will be. Sherlock was a detective before they met and he still is, just like Moriarty was a criminal mastermind before and after their meeting. _

"Don't ... don't h... Don't hurt me." Jim says shakily. She realises she has been baring her teeth to the fake, almost snarling at the man who she was sure was enjoying the close proximity of her forcing him into a corner of the small flat.

John starts shouting. "No, you are Moriarty!" He looks at the journalist and points to him. "He's Moriarty!" He looks back to Jim. "We've met, remember? You were gonna blow me up!" Jim put his hands briefly over his face, then holds them up in front of himself again, sounding as if he is almost crying in fear.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He paid me. I needed the work. I'm an actor. I was out of work. I'm sorry, okay?" Ramona rolled her eyes. However, this statement in some aspects was true. He was an actor. And a very good one.

Kitty looks at Sherlock. "You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis."

"Invented him?" John asks, upset.

"Mmm-hmm. Invented all the crimes, actually – and to cap it all, you made up a master villain." Ramona frowned angrily at the woman, turning up her top lip in disdain.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" she shouts.

After giving evidence, the journalist's boyfriend had run off, and apparently landed on some bins."D'you know what, Sherlock Holmes? I look at you now and I can read you." She remarks smugly. Sherlock stops at the bottom of the stairs as she gets in his face. "And you ... repel ... me." Quickly, Sherlock turns and heads out of the door. John is holding a folder of articles about Richard Brook, shoves kitty aside and follows him. Ramona walks up to the woman, the boys too far away to hear her.

"You're being tricked, you know." The woman crosses her arms and switches her dependence of legs from left to right. "You'll see." She gets in her face, practically growling, scaring herself, and apparently Kitty. "You'll see. But it'll be too late then. You'll be guilty for something horrible, Kitty. You can put that on the record, you cretin." She spat, and walked out, leaving the frozen woman and slamming the door. She joined John outside, as apparently Sherlock had paced off, as is his terrible habit.

She entered her flat in a daze over the events, to find Hannah looking like a complete mess in the living room. She turned quickly to see her friend in the doorway, to which she ran to and crushed with the bear hug she was renowned for. She leaned back to study her friends face. "I was so worried Ray! I heard police, and then, then you were arrested, and then a gunshot, and Sherlock-"

"I'm alright, I'm fine. Does this mean we're okay?"

"Only if you tell me what happened in lots of detail." She negotiated.

Ramona giggled. "Alright, put the kettle on, and I'll tell you every last bit." She lit up like a child who was excited for her bedtime story.

Ramona sat watching Sherlock's nimble fingers dance on the small bouncy ball as John slept in the lab with his head resting on his crossed arms on the table. She decides to join in, gently flicking it back to him, and letting out a gently yawn. She blinked slowly, smiling at the man. He grinned back at the sleepy form of Ramona. They had been up all night in the lab, and she wanted to join John sleeping. She remembered she still hadn't gotten an explanation from Sherlock about what happened that night, but she found herself not caring too much. Maybe he has schizophrenia, she wasn't going to question it anymore, and she wasn't going to recipricate. He couldn't just spring stuff like that, as women were not playthings for him to pick up whenever he pleased. She wasn't, anyway. Ramona found Sherlocks hands tucking her hair behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She shook a little, and he chuckled at her. Ramona looked at him with sleepy eyes, and she swore she found a gentleness in his sharp grey eyes, a loving one. But she also saw weakness, and fear. A fear that crept into her viens and would keep her up at night. Ramona had never seen this before, and it almost felt like the Berlin wall between them was being knocked down with sledgehammer after sledgehammer. She saw what she thought was tears building up in his eyes, and she would hate for them to fall. She wrapped her arms around his waist in a hug. He stayed frozen for a minute, unsure, and then reciprocated. Ramona could feel Sherlock's heartbeat, how it was just as fast as hers. She felt him bury his face into her hair, and Ramona wondered if this was what a goodbye felt like. She didn't know why it would be a goodbye, but it had a strange finality to it that she disliked. Then Ramona realised that he was frightened. He was still just a little boy in a big coat, and she wanted nothing more then to save him. But if only she knew how. If only she knew how. She closed her eyes and started to fall asleep gently onto him. The detective smiled and wrapped his coat around her, letting her rest on her.

Ramona and John woke up to his phone ringing. She moaned at first, as the rest had been surprisingly better then she'd had in a while. She looked around, disorientated. He smirked at her as she stood up in his coat, buttoned up and everything. The arms engulfed her thin ones, and she laughed at her reflection, posing a few times as he laughed, before she flipped the collar and made finger guns at him, winking dramatically, making him laugh louder before John shushed him, irritated. Sherlock got up. "You pull it off, to say the least." He murmured to her.

"Why are you complimenting me? I can't get you into any labs!" She hissed playfully, before unbuttoning the coat and handing it to him, smiling. John's face drops suddenly, as Sherlock pulls out his phone and starts texting. John hangs up and turns to them.

"What is it?" Sherlock asks.

"Paramedics. Mrs Hudson – she's been shot."

Ramona's jaw drops. "What? How?"

John starts to act frantically. "Well, probably one of the killers you managed to attract ... Jesus. Jesus. She's dying, Sherlock. Let's go." Ramona's already at the door, beckoning Sherlock.

"You go. I'm busy." Ramona and John share an appalled look.

"Busy?" She asks incredulously.

"Thinking. I need to think." He said nonchalantly.

"Doesn't she mean anything to you?"Asks John.

"She's my landlady." he shrugs.

"She's dying..." Ramona said furiously.

"You machine." Said John. Ramona cringed. "Sod this. Sod this. You stay here if you want, on your own."

"Alone is what I have. Alone protects me." He said. Had Ramona dreamed what had just happened? She hated how he made her doubt her senses, her intuition, her own eyes.

"No. Friends protect people." Ramona frowned as she said it, and stormed out.

They got out of the taxi outside 221B, to find no ambulances or paramedics. They scramble inside to see a bald tattooed workman drilling a hole into a wall.

"Oh, you two startled me! Is everything okay now with the police? Has, um, Sherlock sorted it all out?" Mrs Hudson says softly. Ramona stares into space, letting the horror sink in.

"Oh my God." John says as Ramona sprints out, before following her out into the street. They look up and down the street frantically, searching for a black cab. Luckily they find one, and run for it.

Their phones start to ring in sync on the street. They share a look. "Hello?" Answers Ramona.

"Ramona, John."

"Hey, Sherlock, you okay?" John asks.

"Turn around and walk back the way you came now." He says sternly into the phone.

"N- no, we're coming in." She says down the phone line.

"Just do as I ask. Please" They do as he asks, and Ramona looks around for him.

"Stop there."

"Sherlock?"

"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop." They both look up, and Ramona goes pale, as if she was drained of all her blood.

"Oh God." John whispers.

" I ... I ... I can't come down, so we'll ... we'll just have to do it like this." Sherlock's voice says in her phone.

"What's going on?" She asks anxiously.

"An apology. It's all true." Ramona's eyes widen.

"What are you..." Her voice trails off.

"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty." Ramona stares up in disbelief.

"Why are you saying this?" She asks.

"I'm a fake." Ramona hears his voice falter, breaking her heart.

"Sherlock..." Says John.

"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs Hudson, and Molly... in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes." Ramona's voice begins to tear up with his.

"Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met ... the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?"

"Nobody could be that clever."

"You could. And her." John says. Sherlock laughs, but she can tell there are tears falling from his face.

"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you." He sniffs. "It's a trick. Just a magic trick." Ramona closes her eyes and shakes her head, looking up at the figure on the roof.

"No, no. Stop, please stop now." Her voice is teary as she starts to walk towards the hospital.

"No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move." Sherlock says urgently.

"Alright." Says John.

"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?" His voice wavers and feels her heart being broken into crumbs and slowly ground into a red powder.

"Do what?" She asks, as tears fall from her chin and splash onto the dirty tarmac at her feet.

"This phone call – it's, er ... it's my note. It's what people do, don't they – leave a note?"

"Leave a note when?" John asks, disbelieving.

"Goodbye." He says.

"N-no, Sherlock. Sherlock!" The phone line is sickeningly disconnected.

"No, Sherlock!" John Shouts. Ramona screams his name bloodcurdling as she watches the tail of his coat fly behind his falling body. She hears his body hit the floor as adrenaline starts to pump aggressively in her veins, fueling her body to get to him. In a hyper-aware state, she seems to not notice as two bikes knock her and John to the floor. She moans as she fights to stay conscious. Ramona pulls John off the floor and runs to Sherlock, to see a crowd of paramedics and bystanders.

"No, god, no, please no." She whispers as she tries to push through the crowd. They push her back but struggling, they get to Sherlock. Or Sherlock's body. Her organs drop to her toes in one swift movement, seeing him lying there, cold. People try to pull them back, but she kneels there, reaching out to feel his pulse. She starts to sob as she feels hands grabbing her wrists. "No, no please, he's my- Get off me!" She shouts, tears slipping from her big blue eyes. " There was no pulse. Nothing. It was sickly and disgusting. The crows eventually pushed her back as he was wheeled away. She tries to stand, but her legs falter and she slides down the wall of the hospital, bystanders trying to comfort them. She held her blonde hair in her hands frantically, slightly rocking herself, gritting her teeth as she felt her chin being pulled down, wobbling with desperation. "No, oh my god, no, Jesus... nnghh." She desperately grabs onto John, as if she would sink into the pavement below her if she hadn't.

Ramona stood at the black marble grave. She stared at it with dead, red and hollow eyes. She feels the sadness in her spine, where she had once felt shivers when he tucked her hair behind her ear. And then she cried. She cried the kind of tears that you don't have to sob for. The kind when it makes your chin wobble and your eyes itch and you go blind from the veil of tears in your eyes. The kind where when you try and swallow the lump in your throat, it comes out on your tounge and renders you speechless. The knd where tears fall regardless of your permission and you feel hollowness in all your bones and veins and you cant even sob becuase the next lump in your throat is blocking your airways. She didn't even try to stop the tears fall because she knew there would be another to replace it. And another. And another. And another. She started sobbing violently and quietly, her shoulders shaking roughly. She wanted to speak to him, but she realised she didn't know what to say. What do you say to a man who used to be hot and cold? A man that you're not sure would even visit your grave. She stopped sobbing suddenly, but the tears continues to fall, regardless of her speaking. "So this is how it ends. You down there, and me... Me up here." She gaxed hopelessly at the shiny stone. "I always felt like I didn't care, but I guess I did. I do. I just-" Another desperate sob escaped her, as her voice turned into a whisper. "I just don't want you to be dead. Please, I don't care about your lies. Please, please." She started mouthing words that wouldn't come out. "Please just come back to me. To us." She started to smile, remembering him. "I just want your human limbs in the fridge, your two am wall shootings, your dressing gowns, your hair, your coat and scarf," More tears streamed down her face, leaving her cheeks salty. "I just- Sherlock I..." Her voice turned to a whisper again, so much she could barely hear herself. "I think I'm in love with you. I- I think I was in love with you." She corrects herself, sobbing again. "You would of said something cynical then, wouldn't you? All I ever think about anymore, is what you would say to me at certain points in the day, what I would say back, how you'd react to things that you would have seen... Jesus Sherlock," She wiped her face in vain, as more tears steadily flowed. "Please, just, don't be dead." She stares again desperately at the grave, before laying down some flowers that she knew he wouldn't of seen the point of. "Goodbye. I'll be visiting you again, but the last word you said to me was goodbye, and I never got to-" She chokes up, the lump in her throat strangling her. "I never got to say it back." She says, before bursting into more violent tears. She closes her eyes painfully, and walks away hesitantly from Sherlock Holmes grave.

* * *

**Sorry! **

**I feel so evil omg :)**

**This isn't the end, don't worry, you just get the same amount of chapters over again :)**

**I felt so sad writing this ugh**

**Please review, I'm really enjoying writing this and would love to know what you think! **


	17. This Charming Man

**Pretty Girls Make Graves**

I don't own Sherlock.

* * *

The most inevitable yet devastating fact happened for Ramona. Life went on. The world kept spinning, the sun rose and fell everyday, as did the moon, although she didn't particularly want them to. She didn't see the need or the point. The next two years passed by Ramona in grey-scale. Everything and everyone were all just background to her sadness. Her devastating, consuming sadness. She hadn't eaten properly at all, and everyone seemed to care except her. She had lost a lot of weight, around a stone, which to her, who was already in a healthy body, made her look very fragile, although she was the extreme polarity. It was getting to the point where you could see her ribs, she could surround her thighs with two hands and her collarbone was so prominent it made people uncomfortable to look at. Her clothes still fit her however, as she still had all of her 'womanly parts', as Hannah had put it when she had confronted her about it. Ramona had rolled her eyes and told her she didn't have anorexia, she had just lost her appetite. Which was of course a massive understatement. Ramona also started forgetting to sleep for days. It got to a point she couldn't distinguish dream from reality, and she walked around like a zombie for two months, before having to drug herself to let herself sleep. The circles around her eyes were like an eclipse of black and grey, making her eyes look bigger so she nearly always looked startled. Her habit of smoking grew much worse, until she grew a fond dependence on alcohol whenever she felt her mind drift to the topic of him, the consulting detective, who came into her life and ruined it in such a short space of time.

She was walking through the London streets when she thought she saw black curly hair above the crowd. She pushed her way past crowds of people, slightly shouting, to get to a man looking at her strangely. One that was not Sherlock. She sighed and walked away, still feeling empty. Everything reminded her of him. A long coat, a deep voice, even her own reflection. With the loss of weight, she had got herself a pair of cheekbones, that reminded her of him. But the worst part was, she wasn't going to move out. Every day, she had to past the black door, like it was taunting her, laughing at how foolish she could of been to ever have a connection with Sherlock Holmes.

After the six months mark Ramona saw a motorbike fly past her, whizzing and racing and dodging in between cars as she looked on in awe. The month after that she owned her own black matte and glossy super sports bike. She honestly didn't care how many speeding tickets she got, she just wanted to be able to race around and actually feel something and not be a shell of a person that she had been.

At her worst point, she didn't want life anymore. Ramona remembers standing there, on the hospital roof at three am, and peering down, and seeing what he must of saw. She remembers taking a deep, slow breath and counting to ten. She looks down at the pavement and the scene with the crowd and the body and John and the hands on wrists and the disappeared pulse and the goodbye and the tail coat flying and Sherlock NO! Ramona remembers breaking down into a panic attack, into tears that engulfed her mind, and all she could feel was the cold, unforgiving wind, and her eyes stinging from it. She remembers crying herself to sleep on the roof, and waking up to the rain, pattering at first on her face, and then turning torrential, and washing away the tear stains on her face so she could go home saying she spent the night at Toby's to Hannah and Hannah smiling and teasing her and her staring at herself in the mirror and seeing nothing but Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock.

**Still Ill**

* * *

"So, what brings you back?" Her therapist asked Ramona politely, notepad poised as she sat on the leather sofa, feeling uncomfortable.

"I'm not back for the same reason." The mans green eyes flickered to hers as his nose twitched slightly.

"Well that narrows things down. What is it?"

She stares at the oak floor with wide eyes. "My friend died. Killed himself. No explanation."

"And how does that make you feel?" His pen makes movements on the notepad.

"Angry. Sad. Confused."

"Have you become bad again?" He asks her, trying to read her guarded expression.

She ignored his question. "They're the only emotions I can feel anymore, and only when I think about that. I'm walking around like a zombie, and I can't remember the last time I felt something. Is that normal?"

"So maybe what's happened is-"

"No, answer my question. Is it normal?"

"Everyone has different reactions to traumatic experiences. Yours has been to cut yourself off from all feeling, to try and punish yourself for something that was never your fault."

Ramona felt a lump in her throat as her voice became strained. "But, what if it was? I could of saved him, I could of-"

"But you didn't, Ramona. The past is the past, and we have to accept it. It's out of your hands now. You have to forgive yourself. Apart from that, do you have any regrets?"

She shakes her head. "I never got to tell him- I never told him what I needed to. It was-" Her voice trembles under the weight of tears. "It was so important. I don't know what he would of said, and now I never will."

"Would you like to say it now?"

"What difference does it make? He's- He's dead now."

He writes something else onto his pad and looks back up to her. "You ignored my question earlier on. Are you bad again?"

She met his eyes. "Did I ever actually recover?"

Toby was in her life, and that was one of the highlights of it. They were officially a couple and he supported her throughout what some people may call a depression. And she loved him, but not passionately. She loved him comfortably and casually.

John never visited. She could understand why, . She reminded him of Sherlock. How could she not? It was alright though, because they had the occasional call, and the feelings were also mutual. John was the biggest trigger of her memories, which she hated. Ramona kept them locked away in a dark place in her mind palace. She kept them locked so tight, along with Sherlock. She occasionally visited him in her dreams, and watched his face move into a smile, a smirk, watched words form, and then she would have to leave him eventually every time, and she never wanted to.

She was angry at him. She was confused. But most of all, Ramona just missed him. When she came to the misfortune of having the task of thinking about him, she had that awful tugging feeling in her chest, where you want something so much it physically hurts. He managed to hurt her even when he was rotting away in a wooden box six feet under. And that's as romantically as she could put it. When she wanted to be with him, when she was sad, she would go downstairs or to his grave, and tell him everything that had happened, as if she was expecting a response. In the first few months, she would sneak out at night to either downstairs or the cemetery.

**Cemetry gates**

* * *

Ramona closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths in her room. The next thing she knew, she was in the graveyard, lying down on her back next to Sherlock. Or what used to be Sherlock. She looked up at the dark night sky, and all the stars. She sighed and took off her jacket, wanting to feel the cold air against her skin.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" She said to him. "You'd secretly love this. I know it." She pulled out some flowers she had taken from the vase in the flat, and put them next to the marble head stone. "I brought these for you, I don't particularly know why. Its one of those customs, though." She sighed and shook her head. "This really isn't healthy, I need to stop doing this. What are you going to do? Reply?" She watched the trees sway in the frosty breeze, and all the distant lights of the city in the far distance. "Most people'd be scared. I'm either brave, or unbelievably stupid. Isn't that what everyone thinks when they get involved with you?" She shrugs. "I might be joining you shortly. Got myself a motorbike." She laughs humorlessly. "And my therapist calls me self-destructive." There's a clear, transparent silence which involves her staring up into the sky. The night has a way of doing that. Making everything so transparent and beautiful. "Look at what you've done. You ruined me. I'm a twenty-five year old woman that comes and lies in a graveyard every other night for shits and giggles." Ramona stays silent for the rest of the time. She watches the dawn come. It was a pretty sunrise, one consisting of lots of different colours. But she didn't feel it. She still felt like it was winter, even though it was the middle of summer. As the first person arrives, she gets up and says goodbye to her late consulting detective, and leaves too hesitantly for a young person.

**Back To The Old House**

* * *

"Ray?" Ramona looked up to see her friend and boyfriend stood there smiling at her, like two loyal golden retrievers panting away their tongues. She looked back down to her book on the dining table.

"Yes?" They sat down at the table.

"We were wondering, if we could take Sherlock's flat." She looked up with an appalled face at the two.

"What! No! Absoloutely- Do you have no respect?"

"It's been two years, Ray..." Hannah's voice trailed off. She felt shock at this. It felt like last week they had been running from police, fugitives holding each others hand.

Ramona sighed at the girl. "No." Hannah made a face like she was going to crack in half. "Fine. I'll live there. You can take this place." She swallowed and looked back to her books. Hannah frowned.

"Will you be okay down there?"

"Yes. I cleared Sherlock's name long ago, and I'm going to graduate soon, so I'm going to have to start my work soon." By her work she meant carrying on Sherlock's. But it wasn't his anymore, she guessed.

"Oh, right. I'm sorry about this Ray, I didn't think it'd end up like thi-" Ramona decides to save bad feelings for herself.

"It's fine, really. It'll be cool to have my own place." She smiled falsely.

Ramona opened the black door of 221B, that hadn't been opened in years. She started to cough instantly. He had always hated Mrs Hudson dusting. She threw open one of the blinds, revealing more big specs of dust floating in the air. She smiled sadly at the boxes of lab equipment and all his stuff that had just been left there, like he was coming back to get them. Ramona wonders for a second if she could do this. If she could sit in his chair, and watch his television and sleep in his bedroom. She quickly decided she wouldn't touch the bedroom, and that she would use John's. She opened the door to Sherlock's room, careful, as if not to wake him. What a beautiful sight that would be. She looks at all the pictures on the wall. Her favourite was the one of Mycroft and him, shaking hand's at school or something. Their hair was absoloutely dire, and she smiled. She stubbed her toe on something hard, and after a series of swears and several hops, she bent down to pick up the heavy black box that was the size of a shoe box. On opening it, she found nothing that meant anything to her, except a newspaper clipping. the woman picked it up with long fingers, and frowned when she saw it was a picture of her and Sherlock. They were smiling at each other, practically grinning mischievously. It dated around two years old. She winced at the time. They looked so happy, that it was painful to think of what was to come. Ramona had gotten a full fringe since then, and admittedly, it framed her face better. She had came to that conclusion, as she had been scouted on the street for modelling seven times this year. But then again, they would look for someone who looked underfed, like an insomniac, and a death stare to suit.

The woman settled in to the flat quickly, moving Sherlock's boxes of stuff into his room, and vowing to never go in. She would often pick a book at random and start reading it, because if he had read and kept them, they must be bloody good. And they were.

Ramona started the detective business quickly, and people flocked after hearing about another detective starting up at Baker Street. Most of it was boring and took her about ten minutes, but it was worth it for the money and publicity. She found herself needing an assistant, and lacking one. She used to have her Watson, but her Watson was currently all lovey-dovey upstairs, and she wouldn't take part in it. She looks out of her window to see the original Watson walk to their door, and hears Mrs Hudson answer. Ramona realises that they're going to eventually want to come up here. She looks around, and quickly starts darting around, cleaning things up. She looks at the skull and blows on the top of his head, dusting him off. She gets changed into something more presentable, and sits at the kitchen table (Which was clear of all scientific instruments.) And sat there reading the paper, and sipping her tea. The door was knocked on and Ramona opened the door tentatively, unsure of Johns reaction. It was slow and unbelieving. Not the best.

"Hello." She says.

"Hey." They stare at each other for a few seconds blankly, before they go for a hug. "I've bloody missed you."

"I've missed you more mate." She answers.

"You look... Older." She smiles forgivingly at the man.

"Don't push it, or I'll have to start on that." She points to his moustache jokingly, and they both giggle. "Please, come in. I- I haven't changed it a lot yet." That was an understatement. It felt like living in a museum. He looked around, memories obviously flying around him.

"So, why now? What changed your mind?" Mrs Hudson asked. Ramona already knew the answer, which was obvious from how he was acting.

"Well, I've got some news."

"Oh, God. Is it serious?"

"Oh, no. I'm moving on."

"You're emigrating." Mrs Hudson said sadly.

Ramona laughed. "God no. He's going to propose. He has a girlfriend."

"A girlfriend?" She says.

"Well, yes." He frowns confusedly, as he looks at her expression and sigh's. "Listen to me: I am not gay!"

**Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now**

* * *

Ramona sits in the chair she took from upstairs that she had placed between John's and Sherlock's, as if they were coming back. She checks her watch in a weird way, as she always positions it with the face the inside of her wrist. Half past six. Ramona sighs as she tries to read her book, but keeps having to read the same page as she's never paying attention each time. Eventually she huffs and sets it down, quickly pulling on a Harrington jacket and leaving.

She sits at the bar alone, looking very alone and very dangerous. She was admittedly in a complete dive, a last chance saloon. Looking around, she saw three broke divorcees, two druggies, one alcoholic, _and a partridge in a pear tree. _She thought sarcastically. The man sat two bar stools away turns to her.

"And who're you trying to forget?" He asked in an accent that was tinged with Scottish. She raised an eyebrow.

"Why'd you think that?" She asks, looking down into her empty glass.

"A girl like you, in a dive like this? Something bad happened to you. Boyfriend die?" his hair was streaked with grey.

She laughed humourlessly. "A friend."

"No one comes here for just a friend, darling." He takes a swig of his drink.

"Don't they?" She asks.

"No, they don't."

"Girlfriend dumped you for good?"

"How- how did you-"

She shrugs. "A thing I can do." There's a silence for half a minute.

"Listen, best advice I can give, don't come here twice. It becomes something of a habit."

"This is my sixth visit." She said in an emotionless tone.

"It's too late to save you, then."

She laughed shortly. "You don't say?"

"A girl like you shouldn't talk with such a dead voice." She rolls her eyes at the man.

"And what is a 'girl like me' like exactly?" She asks, before paying and walking out.

**This Charming Man**

* * *

Ramona stumbles into the flat, slightly intoxicated. She goes straight to her bedroom, and stops in the hallway, frowning and walking back. Was someone in the living room? She walks backwards cautiously, and peers to see him, standing there.

"Hello, Ramona." A familiar baritone voice says. She stares for six seconds, until laughing humourlessly in a dangerously dead tone.

"Didn't realise I was this drunk. You've never talked before, however. Didn't know hallucinations could do that." She stares at him and smiles sadly, tears filling up in her blue eyes. "Say something else, please."

"This isn't a hallucination. Although I am flattered that I've been one in the past." He said, turning and standing up, walking towards her. She noticed he was more built now, less skinny and more muscle than before. Her illusions had gotten more attractive.

She sighed happily and gave a sad smile. "Always loved that voice. Deep and gravelly. Never thought I'd hear it again. I didn't know my memory was this good. Should do this more often." She stares at him, poking him and then frowning, confused. She took his face in her hands, studying it. Ramona sniffed him slightly, and suddenly her eyes widened in shock as she pushed him away from her, walking back slowly. Her gaze turned blurry as she stared at him. He smirked. "You- I-"

"I'm real."

"No." She shook her head as her breaths turned fast. "No, you're dead. I- I saw you die."

"You didn't."

"So, what? You- where have you been, Sherlock!"

"Not here."

"Well that's a bit bloody obvious, isn't it!" Her thin hands started to tremble slightly. Ramona closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath, taking deeper ones.

Sherlock looked awkward. "Bit mean, springing this on you, I know. But it was funny."

"So, what? You just let me think you were dead? Let me mourn? Let me- you left me. You fucking left me, Sherlock. Why? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought about contacting you constantly-"

"But you didn't, did you?" Ramona says. "Two words. One text, a call, anything to just let me know! Let me know you were okay!"

Sherlock bit his lips. "It seems I owe you an apology. I had no idea you'd be so affected."

"Are you- Are you having a fucking laugh?" She cries incredulously. "You think that makes it okay?" He looked down at his shoes. "Two years Sherlock! Two bloody years, you let me believe you were- I thought you were... Oh Jesus Christ, Oh God..." Her voice trailed off as she leant on the wall for support.

"I- I-"

"I- I-" She said in a mock deep voice, trying to impersonate the man. "You're an idiot. A genius idiot. I hate you. I hate you so much right now."

She turned to leave the room, as he grabbed her arm to stop her. She froze and tensed and looked down at his hand, slowly looking up to his face with a dark glare. "Get. Off. Me." She growled. Sherlock slowly took his hand off her.

"Stop over-reacting." He tells her.

"Over reacting?" She asks. "Over-reacting?!" She asks, louder. "You fake your own death, don't tell me, waltz back in here large as bloody life, and I'm over reacting?" She pauses. "Who knew?"

"Mycroft. Molly. Some of the homeless network."

"Oh, alright then. Your brother, Molly, and a couple of tramps. No big deal." She says, passive aggressively. "Why not me? Do you realise what I- what I..." She couldn't admit how affected she was by his loss.

"The real question here is why you went to that dreadful bar."

"It was for a case, obviously." She lies.

He looks at her with raised eyebrows. "Right."

There's a silence. "Don't give me that look, Sherlock." He carries on. "I said stop! You can't do this to me and then make me feel ashamed."

He leans in suddenly to study her, looking into her eyes and then letting his eyes wander her face. "You haven't been sleeping." She folded her arms and gave him a guarded expression. "You haven't been eating." She looks down. "Is this because of me?"

She felt like telling him everything, how she almost killed herself. Ramona thinks about what would of happened if she had. Would he have cared in the slightest? Would the plot be something to resemble Romeo & Juliet? She frowned, shaking the thought out of her head. "I'm not in the mood, Sherlock."

"You're always in the mood."

"Fine. You've been abroad. Eastern Europe. Russia?" She pulls up one of his sleeves to reveal bruises and cuts. Her eyes widen as she frowns. "You've gotten a beating." She presses on his stomach, making him wince. "Recently. still in pain." He pulls his arm away, turning his gaze to the kitchen over her shoulder.

"Did you miss me?" He smirks.

"Of course I- So why are you back?"

"There's a terrorist cell operating in London. Admit it. You've missed this. The thrill of the chase, us against the world-"

She put a hand to his mouth, muffling his voice, and leaning in, glaring at him dangerously. "Don't. Unless you want me to kill you for real, I suggest you don't." His eyes widened, and then she felt a smile on her hand which she retracted.

"There she is. Knew you were in there somewhere." He goes to sit on the couch. "Welcome back, Ramona." She gritted her teeth.

After brushing her teeth and getting into pyjamas, she went into the living room to sit with him, to find an asleep Sherlock on the sofa, looking adorable with his hair messy. Ramona narrowed her eyes at his ability to worm his way under her skin. The woman sat at her chair, smiling as she watched his chest slowly rise and fall. He was alive. Sherlock was sleeping on the couch, in his suit. What a sight for sore eyes.

"Stop watching me sleep, you're putting me off." He muttered, his eyes still closed. Ramona went red and turned to her book, before drifting off naturally in the first time in years.

* * *

**This was so sad to write leave me to cry**

**I couldn't go one chapter without Sherlock Sorry**

**The songs that I put as titles are literally all The Smiths this chapter, because now she's about as miserable as Morrissey if that's possible **

**Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, it means so much :)**


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